#rmrilke

[sickofthisshitdotcom]

Playing a bit with patterns

[hookist]

A #lovesong waiting to happen. #rmrilke #poet #novelist thx @johnp.shanley . . . #beautiful #inspiration #writeasong #songwriter #singersongwriter #love #ascap #bmi #nsai (at Nashville, Tennessee) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bpvgge7geS3/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ai93fwiv49we

[macszibaldone-blog]

New essay on Rilke and awe. Link in bio. UNFYL.com #rmrilke #viktorfrankl #unfuckyourlife #newwriting

[commetombeunarbre]

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. For this reason young people, who are beginners in everything, cannot yet know love: they have to learn it. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered close about their lonely, timid, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and so loving, for a long while ahead and far on into life, is – solitude, intensified and deepened loneness for him who loves. Love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate – ?), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world for himself for another’s sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things. Only in this sense, as the task of working at themselves (“to hearken and to hammer day and night”), might young people use the love that is given them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must save and gather for a long, long time still), is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives as yet scarcely suffice.

[mulb]

Auf einmal ist aus allem Grün im Park man weiß nicht was, ein Etwas, fortgenommen; man fühlt ihn näher an die Fenster kommen und schweigsam sein. [Suddenly, from all the green around you, something-you don't know what-has disappeared; you feel it creeping closer to the window, in total silence.] Rainer Maria Rilke | Vor dem Sommerregen [Before Summer Rain] | aus: Neue Gedichte (1907)

[mulb]

Es spiegeln die verblichenen Tapeten das ungewisse Licht von Nachmittagen, in denen man sich fürchtete als Kind. Rainer Maria Rilke Aus: Neue Gedichte (1907) [....and reflected on the faded tapestries now; the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long childhood hours when you were so afraid]