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Deeply I go down into myself. My god is Dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence.

Rainer Maria Rilke

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Rainer Maria Rilke
Age: 51 †
Born: 1875
Born: December 4
Died: 1926
Died: December 29
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
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
Made
Like
Deeply
God
Roots
Hundred
Drink
Silence
Dark

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Fame is the sum of the misunderstanding that gathers about a new name.
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If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches for the Creator, there is no poverty.
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You have had many sadnesses, large ones, which passed. ... But please, ask yourself whether these large sadnesses haven't rather gone right through you [that is, passed through you]. Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad.
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Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'hierarchies? and even if one of thempressed me against his heart: I would be consumedin that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothingbut the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure,and we are so awed because it serenely disdainsto annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.
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Do not be bewildered by the surfaces: in the depths all becomes law.
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More unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.
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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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Take your well-disciplined strengths, stretch them between the two great opposing poles, because inside human beings is where God learns.
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Trees do not force their sap, nor does the flower push its bloom.
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For poems are not, as people think, simply emotions (one has emotions early enough)-they are experiences.
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Everything that makes more of you than you have ever been, even in your best hours, is right. Every intensification is good.
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I am like a child who awakes At the light, so safe and secureFree from night's fears when dawn breaks, In Thee I am ever secure.
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Verses are not, as people think, feelings (those one has early enough) -- they are experiences. For the sake of a verse one must see many cities, men, and things, one must know the animals feel how birds fly, and know the gesture with which the little flowers open in the morning.
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They, who passed away long ago, still exist in us, as predisposition, as burden upon our fate, as murmuring blood, and as gesture that rises up from the depths of time.
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For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror which we are barely able to endure, and it amazes us so, because it serenely disdains to destroy us. Every angel is terrible.
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Your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes, far in the distance.
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The work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.
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Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Do not despair if the answers don't come immediately. Some answers are only revealed with the passage of time.
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Life and death: they are one, at core entwined. Who understands himself from his own strain presses himself into a drop of wine and throws himself into the purest flame.
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Whoever you are, go out into the evening, leaving your room, of which you know every bit your house is the last before the infinite, whoever you are.
Rainer Maria Rilke