A Quote by Pablo Neruda

And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy. — © Pablo Neruda
And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy.
And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering like ivy. It climbs the same way on damp walls. You are to blame for this cruel sport. They are fleeing from my dark lair. You fill everything, you fill everything. Before you they peopled the solitude that you occupy, and they are more used to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you to make you hear as I want you to hear me.
Part of the beauty of a long-format story is that the characters become as much yours as they are mine, and you dream of them in a different way than I do.
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow But thinking of a wreath, . . . I like such ivy; bold to leap a height 'Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves As twist about a thyrsus; pretty too (And that's not ill) when twisted round a comb.
Edden called the church first,” she said by way of greeting, her thin eyebrows high as she spotted Ford’s arm linked in mine. “Hi, Ford.” The man reddened at the lilt she’d put in her last words, but I wouldn’t let him take his arm back. I liked being needed. “He’s having trouble with the background emotion,” I said. “And he’d rather be abused by yours?” Nice. (Ivy, Rachel and Ford)
One half of me is yours, the other half is yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.
I've had your tears with mine, and you've had mine with yours. I think that's more intimate even than a kiss.
In the face of suffering, one has no right to turn away, not to see. In the face of injustice, one may not look the other way. When someone suffers, and it is not you, that person comes first. One's very suffering gives one priority. . . . To watch over one who grieves is a more urgent duty than to think of God.
And when the storms came through They found me and you Back together And when the sun would shine It was yours and mine. Yours and mine forever.
Certain individual words do possess more pitch, more radiance, more shazam! than others, but it's the way words are juxtaposed with other words in a phrase or sentence that can create magic. Perhaps literally. The word "grammar," like its sister word "glamour," is actually derived from an old Scottish word that meant "sorcery." When we were made to diagram sentences in high school, we were unwittingly being instructed in syntax sorcery, in wizardry. We were all enrolled at Hogwarts. Who knew?
Sometimes I'll watch an old movie on television and, once in a while, one of mine, such as April Showers, will come on and I'll watch it. And you know something? I'm always amazed at what a lousy actress I was. I guess in the old days we just got by on glamour.
You're kinda striding the line of what's yours and theirs. What's yours, what's mine, what's ours as creators of it and what's yours as owners.
Old men's eyes are like old men's memories; they are strongest for things a long way off.
Words and music equally important. But the way to get what I'm looking for is different in each case. I have something specific I'm hoping for with the words and the music, and the way to get the words the way I like them is to take a long time, and the way to get the music I like it is to not let me or anyone else get in the way of it.
That depends on the man. I like breasts myself. A nice rack goes a long way in getting me to do just about anything. Even stupid things. (Phobos) You are so offensive! (Delphine) Oh, please, I’m ten thousand years old. You’re lucky I’m not more chauvinistic than I am. Babe, I’ve come a long way. (Phobos)
Certain individual words do possess more pitch, more radiance, more shazam! than others, but it's the way words are juxtaposed with other words in a phrase or sentence that can create magic. Perhaps literally.
There comes a point at which you stop giving things up. That is what i won't give up. None of it will i give up, for my beautiful sister Ivy who lies in bed. Ivy who used to be alive. Ivy who used to be. Ivy who used. Ivy who. Ivy-who-is-not-me. Not me. Not me. Not me.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!