Pablo Neruda Quotes

But what am I? An infant crying in the night: An infant crying for the light: And with no language but a cry.

The blackest night must end in dawn, the light dispel the dreamer's fear.

How do you plan a rebirth? I'm not sure you do. You just stand in the darkness until you can't endure it any long, and then you move forward until you're standing in the light.

Rebirth is almost impossible without the darkness.....I tell myself I am experiencing the death of myself as mother, the death of myself as a younger woman -- precious old lives going by the wayside. Of course, I should let myself grieve. To deny the grief is to squander a transforming and radiant possibility.

Even as a child, even as my blood-past was drained from me, I understood that if I were strong enough to accept it, I was being offered a second history.

When I'm writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we're capable of, how we feel, how we lose and stand up, and go on from darkness into darkness.

Sometimes you have to lose yourself 'fore you can find anything.

Confidence has brought them out into the light, but they seem to have forgotten - light's no good for creatures of the night.

There's power in the night. There's terror in the darkness. Despite all our accumulated history, learning, and experience, we remember. We remember times when we were too small to reach the light switch on the wall, and when darkness itself was enough to make us cry out in fear.

The living can't quit living because the world has turned terrible and people they love and need are killed. They can't because they don't. The light that shines into darkness and never goes out calls them on into life. It calls them back again into the great room. It calls them into their bodies and into the world, into whatever the world will require. It calls them into work and pleasure, goodness and beauty, and the company of other loved ones.

That morning I was not yet a vampire, and I saw my last sunrise. I remember it completely, and yet I can't recall any sunrise before it. I watched the whole magnificence of the dawn for the last time as if it were the first. And then I said farewell to sunlight, and set out to become what I became.

The descent into the depths always seems to precede the ascent.

While looking for the light, you may suddenly be devoured by the darkness and find the true light

He changed sunset into sunrise.

Darkness invades the dreams of the glassblower. Of all the unpleasantries his dreams grab in out of the night air, an extinguished light is the worst. Light in his dreams, was always hope: the basic, moral hope. As the contacts break helically away, hope turns to darkness, and the glassblower wakes sharply tonight crying, "Who? Who?"

When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we're capable of, how we feel, how we lose and stand up, and go on from darkness into darkness. I'm trying for that. But I'm also trying for the language. I'm trying to see how it can really sound.

The frailty of everything revealed at last. Old and troubling issues resolved into nothingness and night. The last instance of a thing takes the class with it. Turns out the light and is gone. Look around you. Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.

Sometimes you have to explore the darkness to get to the light and get back to who you are.

And as I watched him, I knew that in every dark night there was, somewhere, a small light burning that could never be quenched.

There was no sun; there was no light. I was dying. I couldn't remember what the sky looked like. But I didn't die. I was lost to a sea of cold, and then I was reborn into a world of warmth.

In those places of doubt and even darkness I've realized that who I am has nothing to do with wins or losses, applause, or negative criticism. It has to do with whose I am.

There can be no rebirth without a dark night of the soul, a total annihilation of all that you believed in and thought that you were.

In the films I've done recently, I've been learning a little more about the side of myself that enjoys being a light. I remember when I used to dress in all black and you'd say. "Just be pretty, hold your head up, be proud. Be a pleasant person and don't cover yourself so much with darkness, your need to be a little crazy." Now I have nothing against anything I've been in before, because I love all sides of me, but I have been experimenting more with that lovely woman side. In this age of feminism, I would hate for the whole gentlemen and ladies things to be lost.