Quotes from Pablo Neruda

Love is a fire that feeds our life.

When I got the chance I asked them a slew of questions. They offered to burn me; it was the only thing they knew.

Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything, without anguish, death, winter waiting along it with their eyes open through the dew.

Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout.

Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.

The Ardent Hymn that Unites Peoples.

The tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness.

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.

I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain dark things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

While I'm writing, I'm far away; and when I come back, I've gone.

But from each crime are born bulletsthat will one day seek out in youwhere the heart lies.

Treacherousgenerals:look at my dead house,look at broken Spain.

Come up with me, American love.Kiss these secret stones with me.The torrential silver of the Urubambamakes the pollen fly to its golden cup.The hollow of the bindweed's maze,the petrified plant, the inflexible garland,soar above the silence of these mountain coffers.

Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.

I continue to work with the materials I have, the materials I am made of. With feelings, beings, books, events, and battles, I am omnivorous. I would like to swallow the whole earth. I would like to drink the whole sea.

What a great language I have, it's a fine language we inherited from the fierce Conquistadors…. They carried everything off and left us everything…. They left us the words.

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who does not play has lost forever the child who lived in him.

I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.