Pablo Neruda Quotes

How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.

Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.

Life without love is like a tree without blossoms or fruit.

Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.

Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.

See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea - What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?

When a poet mentions the spring, we know that the zephyrs are about to whisper, that the groves are to recover their verdure, the linnets to warble forth their notes of love, and the flocks and herds to frisk over vales painted with flowers: yet, who is there so insensible of the beauties of nature, so little delighted with the renovation of the world, as not to feel his heart bound at the mention of the spring?

Flowers are the beautiful hieroglyphics of nature with which she indicates how much she loves us.

Here are fruits, flowers, leaves and branches, and here is my heart which beats only for you.

Tell me who first did kisses suggest? It was a mouth all glowing and blest; It kissed and it thought of nothing beside. The fair month of May was then in its pride, The flowers were all from the earth fast springing, The sun was laughing, the birds were singing.

Kisses, even to the air, are beautiful.

The rose is the flower and handmaiden of love - the lily, her fair associate, is the emblem of beauty and purity.

There are only two things: love, all sorts of love, with pretty girls, and the music of New Orleans or Duke Ellington. Everything else ought to go, because everything else is ugly.

Love is a strange master, and human nature is still stranger.

There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.

A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.

Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.

Love may not make the world go round, but I must admit that it makes the ride worthwhile.

Love is a beautiful feeling.

Love is the poetry of the senses.

Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.