Gabriela Mistral quotes:

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.

My grief and my smile begin in your face, my son.

Now my belly is as noble as my heart.

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.

Let the radiance of my enthusiasms envelop the poor courtyard and the bare classroom. Let my heart be a stronger column and my goodwill purer gold than the columns and gold of rich schools.

Now I am nothing but a veil; all my body is a veil beneath which a child sleeps.

There is the joy of being healthy and fair, but there is overall the beauty, the immense joy of being useful.

You shall create beauty not to excite the senses but to give sustenance to the soul.

Love beauty; it is the shadow of God on the universe

A crippled child Said, "How shall I dance?" Let your heart dance We said. Then the invalid said: "How shall I sing?" Let your heart sing We said Then spoke the poor dead thistle, "But I, how shall I dance?" Let your heart fly to the wind We said. Then God spoke from above "How shall I descend from the blue?" Come dance for us here in the light We said. All the valley is dancing Together under the sun, And the heart of him who joins us not Is turned to dust, to dust.

All night I have suffered; all night my flesh has trembled to bring forth its gift. The sweat of death is on my forehead; but it is not death, it is life!

For me, religiosity is ... the constant remembrance of the presence of the soul.

I have a faithful joy and a joy that is lost. One is like a rose, the other, a thorn. The one that was stolen I have not lost.

I have all that I lost and I go carrying my childhood like a favorite flower that perfumes my hand.

I write poetry because I can't disobey the impulse; it would be like blocking a spring that surges up in my throat. For a long time I've been the servant of the song that comes, that appears and can't be buried away. How to seal myself up now?"¦It no longer matters to me who receives what I submit. What I carry out is, in that respect, greater and deeper than I, I am merely the channel.

In the secret of night, my prayer climbs like the liana, My prayer is, and I am not. It grows, and I perish. I have only my hard breath, my reason and my madness. I cling to the vine of my prayer. I tend it at the root of the stalk of night.

Let the earth look at me, and bless me, for now I am fecund and sacred, like the palms and the furrows.

Love beauty it is the shadow of God on the universe

Love that stammers, that stutters, is apt to be the love that loves best.

Speech is our second possession, after the soul-and perhaps we have no other possession in this world.

The poet is an untier of knots, and love without words is a knot, and it drowns.

What the soul is to the body, so is the artist to his people,

Writing tends to cheer me; it always soothes my spirit and blesses me with the gift of an innocent, tender, childlike day. It is the sensation of having spent a few hours in my homeland, with my customs, free whims, my total freedom.

Many things can wait. Children cannot. Today their bones are being formed, their blood is being made, their senses are being developed. To them we cannot say "tomorrow." Their name is today.