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You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house —, and you almost stepped out, pensive, to mee… - Rainer Maria Rilke
" "You, Beloved, who are all the gardens I have ever gazed at, longing. An open window in a country house —, and you almost stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,— you had just walked down them and vanished. And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows? perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening...
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About Rainer Maria Rilke
René Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke (4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926), better known as Rainer Maria Rilke, was a Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist, generally considered the German language's greatest poet of the 20th century. His writings include one novel, several collections of poetry and several volumes of correspondence in which he invokes images that focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude and anxiety. These themes position him as a transitional figure between traditional and modernist writers.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
René Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
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René Maria Cäsar Rilke
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Rainer Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
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Li-erh-kʻo
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Rainer Maria Rielke
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René Rilke
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Rainer Mariyah Rilḳeh
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Rainŏ Maria Rilkʻe
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Reiner Marie Rilke
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Rene Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
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Rene Rilke
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Additional quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke
People have (with the help of conventions) oriented all their solutions toward the easy and toward the easiest side of the easy; but it is clear that we must hold to what is difficult; everything alive holds to it, everything in Nature grows and defends itself in its own way and is characteristically and spontaneously itself, seeks at all costs to be so and against all opposition. We know little, but that we must hold to what is difficult is a certainty that will not forsake us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it. 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.
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I am too alone in the world, and yet not alone enough to make every hour holy. I am too small in the world, and yet not tiny enough just to stand before you like a thing, dark and shrewd. I want my will, and I want to be with my will as it moves towards deed; and in those quiet, somehow hesitating times, when something is approaching, I want to be with those who are wise or else alone.
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