Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.
art poetry tso-love
It was not in me It came and wentI wanted to hold it It was held by wine(I no longer know what it was)
happiness poetry
How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. So you must not be frightened if a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloudshadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall. Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any miseries, or any depressions? For after all, you do not know what work these conditions are doing inside you.
attitude change courage depression dragons fears helplessness inspirational poetry sadness strength transformation weakness
To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.. Love is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world for himself for another's sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things.
philosophy poetry tso-love
A billion stars go spinning through the night, / glittering above your head, / But in you is the presence that will be / when all the stars are dead.
poetry
Art too is just a way of living.
Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.
O Stunden in der Kindheit, da hinter den Figuren mehr als nurVergangnes war und vor uns nicht die Zukunft.
His vision, from the constantly passing bars, has grown so weary that it cannot holdanything else. It seems to him there area thousand bars, and behind the bars, no world. As he paces in cramped circles, over and over, the movement of his powerful soft stridesis like a ritual dance around a centerin which a mighty will stands paralyzed. Only at times, the curtain of the pupilslifts, quietly. An image enters in, rushes down through the tense, arrested muscles, plunges into the heart and is gone.
Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were behind you, like the winter that has just gone by. For among these winters there is one so endlessly winterthat only by wintering through it will your heart survive.
poetry rainer-maria-rilke-poet
Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you. Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you. And without feet I can make my way to you, without a mouth I can swear your name. Break off my arms, I'll take hold of youwith my heart as with a hand. Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat. And if you consume my brain with fire,I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.
obsession poetry
The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.
life poetry purpose
This is the creature there has never been. They never knew it, and yet, none the less, they loved the way it moved, its suppleness, its neck, its very gaze, mild and serene. Not there, because they loved it, it behavedas though it were. They always left some space. And in that clear unpeopled space they savedit lightly reared its head, with scarce a traceof not being there. They fed it, not with corn, but only with the possibilityof being. And that was able to confersuch strength, its brow put forth a horn. One horn. Whitely it stole up to a maid - to within the silver mirror and in her.
Interior of the hand. Sole that has come to walkonly on feelings. That faces upwardand in its mirrorreceives heavenly roads, which travelalong themselves. That has learned to walk upon waterwhen it scoops, that walks upon wells, transfiguring every path. That steps into other hands, changes those that are like itinto a landscape: wanders and arrives within them, fills them with arrival.
adorable companionship palm poetry
I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world.
poetry rainer-maria-rilke