Author of quotes: Rainer Maria Rilke. Page 3

And it is good to love because love is difficult. The love of man for man, perhaps, the most difficult part of what we intended, this is the last truth, the last trial and test, is work, without which all our works mean nothing.

No me without you life on earth.
Lose hearing I still hear,
Eyes will lose even clearer see.
Without feet I'll catch up with you in the darkness.
Tongue cut off - I will swear to my lips.
Break my hands and heart a hug.
Break my heart - my brain will fight
To meet thy compassion.
But if suddenly I will burn
And I'm in the fire of your love burn -
You blood flow will dissolve.

No loneliness is the limit...
It's like rain: the sky is not space,
in this dal seas evening numb
the vast obscura city
and rush down the tired water.
And rain all night. Dawn desolation,
when the shivering bridge sad
unremitting bodies of the weave
will rastorgnuta anxious and squeamish
and the two share a sorrowful, lonely
one bed and hatred for ever, -
then it does not rain, the flooding of the river...

Leave no eyes yet I see you;
Leave without a hearing - I can hear you;
I no go feet in thy paths;
I mute appeal to you will be able to;
And if the hands I will lose everything
You my heart I'll embrace;
And the heart will have to stay -
My brain you will break, like summer lightning;
Now my brain kill -
I'll carry you in my blood.

How shallow life our disputes
How big what is against us.
Whenever we succumbed to the pressure
Elements, looking for space,
We would have grown a hundred times.

He is waiting to start higher
It all often won
To grow him in response.

Homeless is not to build a house.
Lonely do not sleep,
It will wait on messages to lean
And in the Park along with wind and sheet
One is restless, lean.

That emerges from the depths, there are fresh, rested strength, and that was always faded from too frequent memories.

And I'm not going to write any more letters. Why tell someone that I'm changing? If I'm changing I'm not who I was, I had someone else, and, therefore, I have no friends. And strangers, people who don't know me, I can not write.

Before I did not come to mind, what in the world a lot of individuals. People deep, but individuals even more, because everyone has several of them. There are people who are one person over the years, it is, of course, wear out, get dirty, can prohoditsja on the pleats, is stretched, like a glove worn on the road. This is a simple, frugal people; they do not change the face, not even giving it in the wash. Come, they say, and who can prove otherwise? But it begs the question, since they have several individuals - what they do with the rest? They are saving them. Children diarrhea. However, sometimes, their dog, going for a walk, wears the master's face. So what? The face has a face.
And there are people that are incredibly often change faces, one after the other, and face they just burn. First, they think that their age will suffice, but here it is under forty, and remains the last. This, no doubt, has its own tragedy. They are not used to protect the face, the last eight days of wear out to the holes, in many places is thin as paper; and more peeks inside out, not the person, and so they are forced to pace.

To be loved is to burn. To love is to Shine with unquenchable icon-lamp. Lubimoe - passes. Love lasts.

And suddenly it dawned on me. Lord! You, therefore, exist. There is evidence of Your existence. I put it all forgotten everything, never demanded, because of how monstrous would oblige confidence! And here I am, however, really indicated. It's Your taste, Your Lord, am well pleased. So we learned to endure, not judging. What is harsh? That graciously? Knows You one.

Never forget something you wish, Malta. Desire, not subject to waiver. I think there are no performances, but there are desires that for long enough, for life, so that their performance just cannot wait.

Poetry's not what I think about them, not feelings (feelings come before), poetry is an experience. For the sake of a single verse to see many cities, people and things, we need to understand animals, to experience the flight of a bird, to feel the gesture, as the flowers open in the morning. We must remember the road unknown countries, accidental meeting, and long before Chemie of separation, and still unidentified the days of childhood, parents, being bullied misunderstanding when they brought you joy (no, the joy is not about you), childhood diseases miraculously always begins with the painful transformations, and the days in the silence of the hidden room, and the morning on the sea, and all sea, the sea, and the night wanderings, all the stars mausie past you in the sky - but this is still not enough. Need to you lived the memory of countless nights of love, of which none is similar to the former, the cries of women in labour of love and light, white, sleeping, again shutting of the mothers. And need to be near a dying man, to sit beside the dead, in the room, open the window catching intermittent street noise. But not enough to have memories. You need to learn to dismiss them when a lot of them, and patiently to wait, when they will come again. The memories, after all, are worth little. That's when they will be in your blood, look and gesture, nameless will grow with you, then in a rare hour stand among them, the first word of the verse and from them will go.