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Find out the reason that commands you to write see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.
Rainer Maria Rilke
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Rainer Maria Rilke
Age: 51 †
Born: 1875
Born: December 4
Died: 1926
Died: December 29
Author
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Praha
René Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
René Maria Cäsar Rilke
Rainer Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
Li-erh-kʻo
Rainer Maria Rielke
René Rilke
Rainer Mariyah Rilḳeh
Rainŏ Maria Rilkʻe
Reiner Marie Rilke
Rene Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
Rene Rilke
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Would
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More quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke
If my devils are to leave me, I'm afraid my angels will take flight as well.
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I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!
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Perhaps everything terrifying is deep down a helpless thing that needs our help.
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Ah, not to be cut off, not through the slightest partition shut out from the law of the stars. The inner -- what is it? if not the intensified sky, hurled through with birds and deep with the winds of homecoming.
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Every intensification is good, if it is in your entire blood, if it isn't intoxication or muddiness, but joy which you can see into, clear to the bottom.
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Be ahead of all farewells as if they were behind you, like the winter that is just departing.
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Animals see the unobstructed world with their whole eyes. But our eyes, turned back upon themselves, encircle and seek to snare the world, setting traps for freedom.
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Who speaks of conquering? To endure is everything.
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Be-and yet know the great void where all things begin, the infinite source of your own most intense vibration, so that, this once, you may give it your perfect assent.
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Make your ego porous. Will is of little importance, complaining is nothing, fame is nothing. Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.
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Describe your sorrows and desires, passing thoughts and the belief in some sort of beauty-describe all these with loving, quiet, humble sincerity, and use, to express yourself, the things in your environment, the images from your dreams, and the objects of your memory.
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Earth, is not this what you will: in us to rise up invisible? Is it, O Earth, not your dream once to be wholly invisible? Earth! Invisible! What, if not change, is your desperate mission?
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Openness, patience, receptivity, solitude is everything.
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most people come to know only one corner of their room, one spot near the window, one narrow strip on which they keep walking back and forth.
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Do you recall, from your childhood on, how very much this life of yours has longed for greatness? I see it now, how from the vantage point of greatness it longs for even greater greatness. That is why it does not let up being difficult, but that is also why it will not cease to grow.
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If you trust in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasurable if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor, then everything will become easier for you.
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It was not in me It came and went I wanted to hold it It was held by wine (I no longer know what it was)
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Love and death are the great gifts that are given to us mostly they are passed on unopened.
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Fame — the aggregate of all the misunderstandings that collect around a new name.
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Everything is blooming most recklessly if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
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