rainer maria rilke, letters to a young poet

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rainer maria rilke, letters to a young poet
After dinner, we went to the dock in hopes of a sunset. It is hours past now, and I still feel myself rocking on the water even though I’m in bed. The trees hid the sun, the clouds, the broad strokes of lilac and peach and gold, but we found catfish in the water though we’d been told and we’d all been certain there were none. The water is cloudy, and now we know why. They swam to the surface, their bodies articulate vertebrae. And the bullfrogs screaming, a chorus. Every now and then, one or another would chime in, throat full and deep and guttural, the sound metallic, and I joked about how we were all on the cusp of abduction. The rest of the group came later, black dog in tow. In the night, the black dog looked like absence. A moving shadow. The stars came out, one by one as the sky darkened and our eyes adjusted. More and more, and more and more. Littered. Like freckles. I saw one of the dippers and perhaps Leo. Vestigial light from lighting illuminated the sky. It was far enough that there was no thunder. I hope it rains tomorrow. I hope the clouds swell and burst. I hope it’s a downpour, and I hope it lasts all day. I am so grateful to be here. I am so grateful to be. I am so grateful for the life that I am living, and I am sick to my stomach at how often I forget.
And sometimes I want to win. And sometimes I want to lose so badly I can taste it. To surrender everything I’m made of: the neat, fenced acres of my separateness— that little plot of land I’ve spent a life defending— to let go until there’s nothing left of me but that great vault we spoke of, its endless dark, its pitiless silence.
— Danusha Laméris, from “Worlds in Worlds,” Bonfire Opera
“How many times did I have to learn the same lesson? You’re not special. And that’s okay.”
— Rebecca Makkai, I Have Some Questions for You
Eternal Love, by Bruno Caesar
“Relationship between human beings is based on the image-forming, defensive mechanism. In all our relationships each one of us builds an image about the other and these two images have relationship, not the human beings themselves. […] The actual relationship between two human beings or between many human beings completely ends when there is the formation of images. Relationship based on these images can obviously never bring about peace in the relationship because the images are fictitious and one cannot live in an abstraction. And yet that is what we are all doing: living in ideas, in theories, in symbols, in images which we have created about ourselves and others and which are not realities at all. All our relationships, whether they be with property, ideas or people, are based essentially on this image-forming, and hence there is always conflict.”
— Jiddu Krishnamurti, Freedom from the Known
“Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.”
— Sylvia Plath
Sandra Cisneros, from Loose Woman: Poems; "Once Again I Prove the Theory of Relativity"
Nishiyama Hoen, Insect Procession,
detail, ink and color on silk, 1851
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Party Pooper by Matty Newton
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson (via childrenofthetao)
“Everything that I could see was beautiful. I cried and cried, standing there, surrounded by that beauty, even though I wasn’t standing anywhere. I could hear the sound of my own tears. Everything was beautiful. Not that there was anyone to share it with, anyone to tell. Just the beauty.”
— Mieko Kawakami, Heaven
richard hell's apartment (via)
“Someone who takes love away from us devastates the cultural structure we’ve worked on all our lives, deprives us of that sort of Eden that until that moment had made us appear innocent and lovable. Human beings give the worst of themselves when their cultural clothes are torn off, and they find themselves facing the nakedness of their bodies, they feel the shame of them. In a certain sense the loss of love is the common experience closest to the myth of the expulsion from the earthly paradise: it’s the violent end of the illusion of having a heavenly body, it’s the discovery of one’s own dispensability and perishability.”
— Elena Ferrante, Frantumaglia
“How someone wants to explain catastrophe isn’t important – that’s what I know now. When shit happens, it doesn’t really matter what asshole is responsible.”
— Catherine Lacey, The Answers
I think it’s so foolish for people to want to be happy. Happy is so momentary—you’re happy for an instant and then you start thinking again. Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous.
Georgia O’Keeffe