Quote

Be forever dead in Eurydice-more gladly arise into the seamless life proclaimed in your song. Here, in the realm of decline, among momentary days, be the crystal cup that shattered even as it rang.

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
Dead
Crystals
Joy
Shattered
Days
Realm
Rang
Forever
Decline
Seamless
Song
Realms
Proclaimed
Even
Cups
Gladly
Life
Arise
Crystal
Among
Momentary

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Fig tree, how long it's been full meaning for me, the way you almost entirely omit to flower and into the seasonably-resolute fruit uncelebratedly thrust your purest secret. Like the tube of a fountain, your bent bough drives the sap downwards and up: and it leaps from its sleep, scarce waking, into the joy of its sweetest achievement.
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a good marriage is that in which each appoints the other guardian of his solitude
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There may be good, but there are no pleasant marriages.
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Huge lemons, cut in slices, would sink like setting suns into the dusky sea, softly illuminating it with their radiating membranes, and its clear, smooth surface aquiver from the rising bitter essence.
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And when suddenly the god stopped her and, with anguish in his cry, uttered the words: ‘He has turned round’ – she comprehended nothing and said softly: ‘Who?
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It is so often on the name of a misdeed that a life goes to pieces, not the nameless and personal action itself, which was perhaps a perfectly definite necessity of that life and would have been absorbed by it without effort.
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Do continue to believe that with your feeling and with your work you are taking part in the greatest the more strongly you cultivate in yourself this belief, the more will reality and world go forth from it.
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Love is something difficult and it is more difficult than other things because in other conflicts nature herself enjoins men to collect themselves, to take themselves firmly in the hand with all their strength, while in the heightening of love the impulse is to give oneself wholly away.
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And these things that keep alive on departure know that you praise them transient, they look to us, the most transient, to be their rescue. They want us to change them completely, in our invisible hearts, into -- O endlessly -- us! Whoever, finally, we may be.
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At the bottom no one in life can help anyone else in life this one experiences over and over in every conflict and every perplexity: that one is alone. That isn't as bad as it may first appear and again it is the best thing in life that each should have everything in himself his fate, his future, his whole expanse and world.
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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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Those doves below, the ones utterly cared for, never endangered ones, cannot know tenderness.
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Perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad.
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Be out of sync with your times for just one day, and you will see how much eternity you contain within you.
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Let everything happen to you Beauty and terror Just keep going No feeling is final
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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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Resolve to be always beginning-to be a beginner!
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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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But suppose the endlessly dead were to wake in us some emblem: they might point to the catkins hanging from the empty hazel trees, or direct us to the rain descending on black earth in early spring. --- And we, who always think of happiness rising, would feel the emotion that almost baffles us when a happy thing falls.
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Children are still the way you were as a child, sad and happy in just the same way-and if you think of your childhood, you once again live among them, among the solitary children.
Rainer Maria Rilke