I don't want to go on being a root in the dark, vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep, downward, in the soaked guts of the earth, absorbing and thinking, eating each day.
Interpretation
The quote reflects a desire for growth and enlightenment beyond a mundane existence.
In this quote, Pablo Neruda expresses a yearning to escape the confines of a stagnant and unfulfilled life, symbolized by being a root in the dark. He highlights the struggle of existing in an unchanging state, steeped in darkness and lethargy, while longing for a brighter, more meaningful experience that transcends mere survival.
In practice
This quote could be shared during a motivational speech about personal development.
Perhaps this war will pass like the others which divided us leaving us dead, killing us along with the killers but the shame of this time puts its burning fingers to our faces. Who will erase the ruthlessness hidden in innocent blood?
I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.
Only do not forget, if I wake up crying it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands.
And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.
Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout.
I learned about life from life itself, love I learned in a single kiss and could teach no one anything except that I have lived with something in common among men.
We who choose to surround ourselves_x000D_ with lives even more temporary than our_x000D_ own, live within a fragile circle;_x000D_ easily and often breached._x000D_ Unable to accept its awful gaps,_x000D_ we would still live no other way._x000D_ We cherish memory as the only_x000D_ certain immortality, never fully_x000D_ understanding the necessary plan.
But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.
I want to live and feel all the shades, tones, and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.
There simply aren't any grand moments in life, and we surely don't live in those moments. No, we live in the utterly mundane. We exist in the bathrooms, bedrooms, living rooms, and hallways of life. This is where the character of our life is set. This is where we live the life of faith.
My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief, Are mine alone!
We’d turn our lives into a terrible adventure. A true-life horror story with a happy ending. A trial we’d survive to talk about.
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