I.Don't trace out your profile--forget your side view--all that is outer stuff. I I. Look for your other halfwho walks always next to youand tends to be who you aren't.
I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.
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Pablo Neruda
It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.
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Virginia Woolf
Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!
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Edwin Arnold
The true poem rests between the words.
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Vanna Bonta
Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.
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Mark Strand
More Quotes By Antonio Machado
Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it.
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road--...
Hope says: one dayyou will see her, if you will only wait. Despair says:all you have left of her is your bitterness. Beat, heart… The earthhas not swallowed everything.
I thought my fireplace dead and stirred the ashes. I burned my fingers.
I dreamt -- marvellous error! -- that I had a beehive here inside my heart. And the golden bees were making white combs and sweet honey from my old failures.
