Pablo Neruda Quotes
''“Then love knew it was called love.― Pablo Neruda, Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada; Cien sonetos de amor
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way” ''
''“I am no longer in love with her, thats certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” ''― Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
''“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving.” ''
''“It was at that age― Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair
that poetry came in search of me.” ''
''“Love! Love until the night collapses!” ''― Pablo Neruda, Machu Picchu
''“I got lost in the night, without the light― Pablo Neruda
of your eyelids, and when the night surrounded me
I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness.” ''
''“It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.” ''― Pablo Neruda, Still Another Day
''“In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?” ''― Pablo Neruda, The Book of Questions
''“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.” ''― Pablo Neruda
''“The books that help you most are those which make you think the most. The hardest way of learning is that of easy reading; but a great book that comes from a great thinker is a ship of thought, deep freighted with truth and beauty.” ''― Pablo Neruda
Read more quotations »
If You Forget Me
I want you to know
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
you forget me
do not look for me,...
It was the twilight of the iguana:
From a rainbowing battlement,
a tongue like a javelin
lunging in verdure;
an ant heap treading the jungle,
monastic, on musical feet;
the guanaco, oxygen-fine
in the high places swarthed with distances,