60 phrases by Pablo Neruda for those who admire his poems

You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot stop the spring.

Someday, anywhere, anywhere, you will unfailingly find yourself, and this, this alone, can be the happiest or the most bitter of your hours.

If I am loved, the more loved, the more I respond to love. If I am forgotten, I must also forget… Because love is like a mirror: it has to have a reflection.

The truth is that there is no truth.

Two happy lovers have no end or death, they are born and die as many times as they live, they are eternal as nature is.

Writing is easy. You start with a capital letter and end with a period. In the middle you put ideas.

If nothing saves us from death, at least let love save us from life.

Let us generously forget those who cannot love us.

Only a madman can desire wars. War destroys the very logic of human existence.

Poetry has secret communication with the sufferings of man.

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace enters the composition of a poet as flour enters the composition of bread.

I love you as certain obscure things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

Knowing the love of those we love is the fire that feeds life.

Even if it rains, even if it hurts. Even if the distance eats away the hours of the day and the night falls without stars, the world shines a little more every time you smile.

In a single kiss you will know everything I have kept silent.

Book, when I close you, I open life.

He wants me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I need him most.

Love, how many paths to reach a kiss, what an errant loneliness until your company!

So that nothing separates us, that nothing unites us.

Deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter, because then I would die.

Saudade is loving a past that has not yet passed. It’s refusing the gift that hurts us. It is not seeing the future that invites us.

Does he suffer more who always waits or who never waits for anyone?

And my voice will be born again, perhaps in another time without pain, and in the heights my heart will burn again, burning and starry.

Only with ardent patience will we conquer the splendid city that will give light, justice and dignity to all men. Then poetry will not have sung in vain.

Your chest is enough for my heart, my wings are enough for your freedom.

The man would like to be a fish or a bird, the serpent would like to have wings, the dog is a confused lion… But the cat wants to be just a cat, and every cat is a pure cat from the mustache to the tail.

Life hides its great beauty in the simplest of places, which reveals the meaning of why we persist in continuing to live.

You are free to make your choices, but you are a prisoner of consequences.

I love your feet because they walked over land, wind and water until they found me

If each day falls, within each night there is a well where the light is trapped. You have to sit on the edge of the well of shadow and patiently fish for fallen light.

Life doesn’t start when you’re born, it starts when you love.

We, then, are no longer the same.

I love you without knowing how, when, or where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you this way because I don’t know how to love any other way.

On earth, before writing and printing, there was poetry.

Cold corollas rain over my heart. Oh, basement of rubble, fierce cave of castaways!

The shadow is always black, even if it’s a white swan.

The thing is, I get tired of being a man.

Always, always distance yourself between the afternoons where the twilight runs tarnishing the statues.

Poets hate hate and make war on war.

I love you and I don’t love you as if I held in my hands the key to happiness and an uncertain unhappy destiny.

I like it when you’re silent because you’re like you’re absent and you hear me from afar, my voice doesn’t touch you. It seems that eyes have flown from you and it seems that a kiss will close your mouth.

It was the pain and the ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I don’t know how you could contain me in the land of your soul and in the cross of your arms!

I do not want to sleep without your eyes. I do not want to be without you looking at me.

Everything was empty, dead and mute. Fallen, abandoned and fallen. Everything was inalienably alien. Everything belonged to others and nobody, until your beauty and your poverty of gifts filled the autumn.

We, those who perish, touch the metals, the wind, the shores of the ocean, the stones, knowing that they will remain immobile or burning, and I discovered, naming things: it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

I love you, I kiss your mouth with joy.

And when you appear, all the rivers are heard in my body, bells shake the sky, the world is filled with a hymn.

I love you to start loving you, to start over infinity and never stop loving you.

You were also a little leaf that trembled in my chest. The wind of life put you there.

I only want five things… First is endless love. The second is to see autumn. The third is the severe winter. Fourth, summer. The fifth thing is your eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight. To think I don’t have it. Feel like I lost it. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the verse falls on the soul like dew on the pasture.

I give up spring for you to continue looking at me.

You will know that I don’t love you and that I love you, because life is two ways, the word is a wing of silence, the fire has its half of cold.

Shyness is a condition alien to the heart, a category, a dimension that leads to loneliness.

I’m hungry for your mouth, your voice, your hair.

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

It was at that age that poetry came to get me. I don’t know where it came from. From winter, from a river. I don’t know how or when. No, not voices, not words, not silence.