Quotes About Reflection

Memory Is Not Enough Memory is not enough… I do not recollect. What I am is alive in me because of you. I do not reinvent you at sadly cooled-off places you have left behind. Even your absence is filled with your warmth and is more real than your not-existing. Longing often meanders into vagueness. Why should I throw myself away when something in you may be touching me, very lightly, like moonlight on a window seat.

Nobody can counsel and help you, nobody. There is only one single way. Go into yourself.

Wie einer, der auf fremden Meeren fuhr, so bin ich bei den ewig Einheimischen; die vollen Tage stehn auf ihren Tischen, mir aber ist die Ferne voll Figur. In mein Gesicht reicht eine Welt herein, die vielleicht unbewohnt ist wie ein Mond, sie aber lassen kein Gefühl allein, und alle ihre Worte sind bewohnt. Die Dinge, die ich weither mit mir nahm, sehn selten aus, gehalten an das Ihre -: in ihrer großen Heimat sind sie Tiere, hier halten sie den Atem an vor Scham.

Only the solitary individual is subject, like a thing, to the fundamental laws, and if someone goes out into the morning as it is breaking, or looks out into the evening full of occurence, and if he feels what is happening there, every hint of station slips from him as if from a dead man, although he is standing in the midst of life itself.

Do not search for the answers, which cannot be given you, because you could not live them. That is the point, to live everything, Now you must live your problems. And perhaps gradually, without noticing it, you will live your way into the answer some distant day.

And this is why it is so important to be lonely and attentive when one is sad: because the apparently uneventful and stark moment at which our future sets foot in us is so much closer to life than that other noisy and fortuitous point of time at which it happens to us as if from outside.

No one can advise and assist you, no one. There is only one way: go into yourself. Seek out the reason that commands you to write; discover if it has stretched out its roots into the deepest part of your heart, admit to yourself whether you would have to die if it were forbidden you to write.

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue.

Alone he climbs on, up the mountains of primal grief. And not once do his footsteps echo from the soundless path.

Du entfernst dich von mir, du Stunde. Wunden schlägt mir dein Flügelschlag. Allein: was soll ich mit meinem Munde? mit meiner Nacht? mit meinem Tag? Ich habe keine Geliebte, kein Haus, keine Stelle auf der ich lebe. Alle Dinge, an die ich mich gebe, werden reich und geben mich aus. [Der Dichter]

I only wanted to advise you also, to grow quietly and seriously throughout your development too; you cannot disturb it more violently than if you look to the outside and from the outside expect a response to questions that only your innermost feeling at your quietest hour can possibly answer.

if there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still full of happening, in which you may participate;

because letter-writing requires more of me than just the basic wherewithal:

if there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still full of happening;

love your solitude and bear the pain it causes you with melody wrought with lament.

And you must not let yourself be diverted out of your solitude by the fact that something in you wants to escape from it. Precisely this desire, if you use it calmly and judiciously, as a kind of tool, will help you to extend your solitude over a greater expanse of ground.

You have had many great sadnesses which have now passed by. And you say that their passing was also hard and upsetting for you. But I ask you to consider whether these great unhappinesses did not rather pass through you.

And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the apparently uneventful and static moment when our future comes upon us is so much closer to life than that other noisy and accidental point when it happens to us as if from the outside.

ad?na kader dediÄŸimiz ÅŸeyin d??ar?dan insanlar?n içine girmediÄŸi, insanlar?n içinden d??ar? ç?kt??? da yavaÅŸ yavaÅŸ farkedilecektir.

All strength we give away comes over us again, experienced and altered. Thus it is in prayer. And what is there, truly done, that is not prayer?

am glad, in a word, that you have withstood the dangers of slipping into all this, and that somewhere you are living alone and courageous in a rough reality. May the year to come maintain and strengthen you in it. Ever yours, R. M. Rilke

There is only one way: go into yourself. Seek out the reason that commands you to write; discover if it has stretched out its roots into the deepest part of your heart, admit to yourself whether you would have to die if it were forbidden you to write.

Always trust yourself. If it turns out you are wrong, then that natural course of your inner life will lead you to other insights.

A happy poet who writes about his window and the glass doors of his bookcases that reflect pensively a beloved, lonely vastness. This is the poet I would have liked to become (...)