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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.


Pablo Neruda


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Did you know about Pablo Neruda?

Pinochet had denied permission to transform Neruda's funeral into a public event. Three days after being hospitalised Neruda died of heart failure; however there are doubts as to whether or not the junta had a hand in his death. Neruda became known as a poet while still a teenager.

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