Martine Quinn

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The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan
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Glow by Jessica Maria Tuccelli
Glow
by Jessica Maria Tuccelli (Goodreads Author)
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The Restorer by Amanda Stevens
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Angel Condemned by Mary Stanton
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Angel's Verdict by Mary Stanton
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Avenging Angels by Mary Stanton
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Angel's Advocate by Mary Stanton
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Defending Angels by Mary Stanton
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More of Martine's books…
Pablo Neruda
“Don't go far off, not even for a day,
because I don't know how to say it - a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in
an empty station when the trains are
parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because then
the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve
on the beach, may your eyelids never flutter
into the empty distance. Don't LEAVE me for
a second, my dearest, because in that moment you'll
have gone so far I'll wander mazily
over all the earth, asking, will you
come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”
Pablo Neruda

Pablo Neruda
“I want to see thirst
In the syllables,
Tough fire
In the sound;
Feel through the dark
For the scream.”
Pablo Neruda

Pablo Neruda
“Then love knew it was called love.
And when I lifted my eyes to your name,
suddenly your heart showed me my way”
Pablo Neruda, Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada; Cien sonetos de amor

Pablo Neruda
“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.”
Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Pablo Neruda
“Love.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming
Flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer
Remember your hands; how did your lips
Feel on mine?

Because of you, I love the white statues
Drowsing in the parks, the white statues that
Have neither voice nor sight.

I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice;
I have forgotten your eyes.

Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to
My vague memory of you. I live with pain
That is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
Make to me an irreperable harm.

Your caresses enfold me, like climbing
Vines on melancholy walls.

I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to
Glimpse you in every window.

Because of you, the heady perfumes of
Summer pain me; because of you, I again
Seek out the signs that precipitate desires:
Shooting stars, falling objects.”
Pablo Neruda

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