Quotes from Rainer Maria Rilke

Look, the trees are; the houses we live in still stand. We alone go past them like an exchange of vapors. And things conspire to tell us nothing, half in shame, perhaps, half in unspoken hope.

EÈ™ti miza jocului pe care de-l câÈ™tigi pierzi tot.

This, a world seen no longer from the human point of view, but inside the angel, is perhaps my real task.

Bana iyi görünen bu dünyaya hiç de al??m?? deÄŸilim. BaÅŸka bir dünyada ne iÅŸim var? HoÅŸland???m anlamlar aras?nda kalmay? çok isterdim ve eÄŸer bir ÅŸeyler deÄŸiÅŸecekse, ben en az?ndan, bize akraba bir dünyalar? olan ve ayn? ÅŸeylere sahip köpekler aras?nda yaÅŸamama izin verilsin isterim.

Wenn ihr mich sucht, sucht mich in euren Herzen. Habe ich dort eine Bleibe gefunden, lebe ich in euch weiter.

Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue to exist, a wonderful living side by side can grow up, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky.

Wir haben, wo wir uns lieben, ja nur dies: einander lassen; denn daß wir uns halten, das fällt uns leicht und ist nicht erst zu erlernen.

For I did not yet understand fame, this public demolition of something still forming, onto whose construction site the crowd breaks in, scattering its stones.

And even if you were in some prison the walls of which let none of the sounds of the world come to your senses—would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories? Turn your attention thither. Try to raise the submerged sensations of that ample past; your personality will grow more firm, your solitude will widen and will become a dusky dwelling past which the noise of others goes by far away.

The leaves are falling, falling as from far, As if far gardens in the skies were dying; They fall, and never seem to be denying. And in the night the earth, a heavy ball, Into a starless solitude must fall. We all are falling. My own hand no less Than all things else; behold, it is in all. Yet there is One who, utter gentleness, Holds all this falling in His hands to bless.

Quizá todo lo horrible, en el fondo, sea sólo una forma de desamparo que solicita nuestra ayuda.

Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist's life: in understanding as in creating.

for at bottom, and just in the deepest and most important things, we are unutterably alone, and for one person to be able to advise or even help another, a lot must happen, a lot must go well, a whole constellation of things must come right in order once to succeed.

There comes a time when every past sheds its heaviness, when blood affects us like brilliance and sadness like ebony. And the darker and more colourful our various pasts were, the richer the images will be by which our quotidian life redeems itself

el destino por sí mismo es como una tela amplia y maravillosa, en la cual cada hebra es guiada por una mano infinitamente tierna; permanece junto a otra hebra, y es contenida y apoyada por cientos de otras.

I basically do not believe that it matters to be happy in the sense in which people expect to be happy. But I can so absolutely understand the kind of arduous happiness that consists in rousing forces through a determined effort, forces that then start to work upon one's self.

You are a young, all still lies ahead of you, and I should like to ask you, as best I can, dear Sir, to be patient towards all that is unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms, like books in a foreign tongue. Do not now strive to uncover answers; they cannot be given you because you have not been able to live them. And what matters is to live everything. Live the questions now.

Art?k etraflar?na bakmaya, aramaya baÅŸlad?lar; güçleri hep, bulunmaktan ibaret olan bu k?zlar.

Nothing can touch a work of art less than critical words; all that comes of that are more or less fortunate misunderstandings. Things are not as easy to understand and say as we might prefer to believe; most events are inexpressible, happening in a space where no word has ever set foot, and most inexpressible of all are works of art, mysterious existences, whose life continues as ours passes away.

Tehlike, emniyette olmaktan daha güvenli.

how will you sleep without my whispering above you like the linden's branches? Without my lying here awake and placing words, almost like eyelids, on your breasts, your limbs, your lips. Without my closing you and leaving you alone with what is yours like a garden with a mass of mint-balm and star-anise.

So much it availed, you coming to him at night; his destiny, tall in its cloak, stepped back behind the cupboard, and his unquiet future, easily shifting, fitted itself into the folds of the curtain.

What shouldn't a person be able to achieve with precisely the kind of force that is needed to dissolve the powerful, tremendous attachments of life! From that moment on I have known with certainty that the worst things, and even despair, are only a kind of abundance and an onslaught of existence that one decision of the heart could turn into its opposiite. Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation.

Read as little as possible in the way of aesthetics and criticism - it will either be partisan views, fossilized and made meaningless in its lifeless rigidity, or it will be neat wordplay, where one opinion will triumph one day and the opposite the next. Works of art are infinitely solitary and nothing is less likely to reach them than criticism. Only love can grasp them and hold them and do them justice.