I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.
And one by one the nights between our separated cities are joined to the night that unites us.
All stories interest me, and some haunt me until I end up writing them. Certain themes keep coming up: justice, loyalty, violence, death, political and social issues, freedom.
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.
When trust improves, the mood improves.
If nothing saves us from death, may love at least save us from life.
It was at that age that poetry came in search of me.
Here I came to the very edge where nothing at all needs saying.
..and every day on the balcony of the sea wings open fire is born and everything is blue again like morning.
It's important to see how we can advance in healing wounds.
At this moment, by an undeserved stroke of fortune, I am the direct voice of the poets of my race and the indirect voice for the noble Spanish and Portuguese tongues.
Write what should not be forgotten.
Nice people with common sense do not make interesting characters.
They only make good former spouses.
We all have an unsuspected reserve of strength inside that emerges when life puts us to the test.
Although women do two-thirds of the world's labor, they own less than one percent of the world's assets.
You have to be able to risk your identity for a bigger future than the present you are living.
You have one big mythology in your favor: Everyone believes that you Europeans are impeccable. But I know you are jerks.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.
Heart is what drives us and determines our fate.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
We don't even know how strong we are until we are forced to bring that hidden strength forward.
A bibliophile of little means is likely to suffer often.
Books don't slip from his hands but fly past him through the air, high as birds, high as prices.
I made my own assessment of my life, and I began to live it. That was freedom.
I never blamed Pinochet, or my torturers, or external circumstances.
Hope is the raw material of losers.
Many things we need can wait. The child cannot. Now is the time his bones are formed, his mind developed. To him we cannot say tomorrow, his name is today.
We the mortals touch the metals, the wind, the ocean shores, the stones, knowing they will go on, inert or burning, and I was discovering, naming all the these things: it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.
Sometimes democracy must be bathed in blood.
I'm aware of the mystery around us, so I write about coincidences, premonitions, emotions, dreams, the power of nature, magic.
Poverty is the frontier we have to be able to cross.
Now, on the road to freedom, I was pausing for a moment near Temuco and could hear the voice of the water that had taught me to sing.
Love Sonnet XI
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
I never told a victim story about my imprisonment.
Instead, I told a transformation story - about how prison changed my outlook, about how I saw that communication, truth, and trust are at the heart of power.
When I left prison, I had to figure out how to embrace my past.
A feel-good style can be a symptom of unawareness or lack of caring.
But every company of the future is going to be in the business of exquisite care - which means quick turnaround time and convenience. To deliver exquisite care, you need an organization that coordinates well and listens well.
Our best comes out when we have honest discussions.
Our worst comes out when we behave like robots or professionals.
Barrabas came to us by sea, the child Clara wrote in her delicate calligraphy.
The library is inhabited by spirits that come out of the pages at night.
Sucede que me canso de ser hombre.
The days aren't discarded or collected, they are bees that burned with sweetness or maddened the sting: the struggle continues, the journeys go and come between honey and pain. No, the net of years doesn't unweave: there is no net. They don't fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river. Sleep doesn't divide life into halves, or action, or silence, or honor: life is like a stone, a single motion, a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves, an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal that climbs or descends burning in your bones.
Each in the most hidden sack kept the lost jewels of memory, intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses, the fragment of public or private happiness. A few, the wolves, collected thighs, other men loved the dawn scratching mountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers. For me happiness was to share singing, praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes. I ask forgiveness for my bad ways: my life had no use on earth.
We need to be more careful, but more compassionate.
We must strike, not deal with terrorists, but to broaden our understanding of the world outside our borders.
We have obligations towards the innocent, the dead, towards the living, towards our children and their children.
We fully support the strikes against terrorist targets, not against the country, not against the culture, not against a religion, but against an enemy of them all.
Great work is done by people who are not afraid to be great.
I'm not a dictator. It's just that I have a grumpy face.
What I fear most is power with impunity. I fear abuse of power, and the power to abuse.
We want a world where life is preserved, and the quality of life is enriched for everybody, not only for the privileged.