Quotes About Growth

Every day you seem to know less and less about more and more

Boyhood, like measles, is one of those complaints which a man should catch young and have done with, for when it comes in middle life it is apt to be serious.

I did not rush in with the vim I would have displayed a year or so earlier, before Life had made me the grim, suspicious man I am to-day:

It is in the spring that the ache for the larger life comes on us, and this was a particularly mellow spring morning.

At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.

Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.

I don't want to go on being a root in the dark, vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep, downward, in the soaked guts of the earth, absorbing and thinking, eating each day.

Our love was born outside the walls, in the wind, in the night, in the earth, and that's why the clay and the flower, the mud and the roots know your name.

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

You make me thank god for every mistake I ever made, Because each one led me down the path that brought me to you.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

I need the sea because it teaches me

From sorrow to sorrow love crosses its islands and establishes roots that are watered by weeping.

Podrán cortar todas las flores, pero no podrán detener la primavera.

They can cut all the flowers, but they can't stop the spring...

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

I love you like the plant that does not bloom and carries in itself, hidden, the light of those flowers

Then Scale by scale, We strip off The delicacy And eat The peaceful mush Of its green heart.

Die Slowly' by Pablo Neruda: 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.

Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas? How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?

I am not me but the living matter fermenting and forming it's own shape in the fruitfulness of everyday

How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?

Que aprendeu a árvore da terra para conversar com o céu? What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?

What weighs more heavily on the belt, sadness or memories? Where is the child I was, still inside me or gone? Why did we spend so much time growing up only to separate? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?