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Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.

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
Oblivion
Stone
Stones
Death
Hardens

More quotes by Pablo Neruda

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I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.
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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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Maybe someone will know I didn't weave crowns to draw blood that I faught against mockery that I did fill the high tide of my soul with truth. I repaid vileness with doves.
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I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.
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About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you
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Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
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Every day you play with the light of the universe.
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I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead, and on waking suddenly in the midst of the shadow my arm encircled your waist. Neither night nor sleep could separate us.
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On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.
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I had no more alphabet than the journeying of the swallows, the pure and tiny water of the small, fiery bird that dances rising from the pollen.
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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?
Pablo Neruda
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In this part of the story I am the one who dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.
Pablo Neruda
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Let us look for secret things somewhere in the world on the blue shore of silence or where the storm has passed rampaging like a train. There the faint signs are left, coins of time and water, debris ,celestial ash and the irreplaceable rapture of sharing in the labour of soitude in the sand.
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I want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound Feel through the dark For the scream.
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Nobody can claim the name of Pedro, nobody is Rosa or María, all of us are dust or sand, all of us are rain under rain. They have spoken to me of Venezuelas, of Chiles and Paraguays I have no idea what they are saying. I know only the skin of the earth and I know it has no name.
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Cómo se acuerda con los pájaros la traducción de sus idiomas?
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Political poetry is more profoundly emotional than any other-at least as much as love poetry-and cannot be forced because then it becomes vulgar and unacceptable. It is necessary first to pan though all other poetry in order to become a political poet.
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And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.
Pablo Neruda
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The typewriter separated me from a deeper intimacy with poetry, and my hand brought me closer to that intimacy again.
Pablo Neruda
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Am I allowed to ask my book / whether it's true I wrote it?
Pablo Neruda