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He who does not travel, who does not read, who does not listen to music, who does not find grace in himself, she who does not find grace in herself, dies slowly.

Pablo Neruda

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Pablo Neruda
Age: 69 †
Born: 1904
Born: July 12
Died: 1973
Died: September 23
Author
Autobiographer
Diplomat
Lyricist
Poet
Politician
Senator Of Chile
Nieh-lu-ta
Neftalí Reyes Basoalto
Pamplo Nerouda
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes
Bāblū Nīrūdā
Neftalí Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Nieluda
Neftali Ricardo Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Reyes Basualto
Neftali Reyes Basoalto
Neftali Ricardo Reyes
Neftalí Reyes Basualto
Pāplō Nerūda
Listen
Grace
Dies
Read
Doe
Music
Find
Slowly
Travel

More quotes by Pablo Neruda

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To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.
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I have never thought of my life as divided between poetry and politics.
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It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
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You & I, Love, together we ratify the silence, while the sea destroys its perpetual statues, collapses its towers of wild speed and whiteness: because in the weavings of those invisible fabrics, galloping water, incessant sand, we make the only permanent tenderness.
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Under your skin the moon is alive.
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In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.
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Donde termina el arco iris, en tu alma o en el horizonte? Where does the rainbow end, in your soul or on the horizon?
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I spin on the circle of wave upon wave of the sea.
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I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.
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Perhaps this war will pass like the others which divided us leaving us dead, killing us along with the killers but the shame of this time puts its burning fingers to our faces. Who will erase the ruthlessness hidden in innocent blood?
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We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.
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What did the earth teach the trees? How to speak to the sky.
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines...Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.
Pablo Neruda
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Pablo Neruda
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I want to do for you what the spring does for the cherry trees
Pablo Neruda
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I was the owner of my own darkness.
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What can I say without touching the earth with my hands?
Pablo Neruda
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Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when.
Pablo Neruda
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Without doubt I praise the wild excellence.
Pablo Neruda
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I should like to sleep like a cat, with all the fur of time, with a tongue rough as flint, with the dry sex of fire and after speaking to no one, stretch myself over the world, over roofs and landscapes, with a passionate desire to hunt the rats in my dreams.
Pablo Neruda