Think…of the world you carry within you…be attentive to that which rises up in you and set it above everything that you observe about you. What goes on in your innermost being is worthy of your whole love; you must somehow keep working at it…
I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.
Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that’s wide and timeless.
To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one’s own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist’s life: in understanding as in creating.
Works of art are of an infinite loneliness…Only love can grasp and hold and be just toward them.
I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not complete this one
but I give myself to it.
Surely all art is the result of one’s having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further.
Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.
All emotions are pure which gather you and lift you up; that emotion is impure which seizes only one side of your being and so distorts you.
For beauty is nothing
but the beginning of terror
which we are barely able to
endure, and it amazes us so,
because it serenely
disdains to destroy us.
Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest human beings infinite distances continue, a wonderful living side by side can grow, if they succeed in loving the distance between them which makes it possible for each to see the other whole against the sky.
Let everything happen to you
Beauty and terror
Just keep going
No feeling is final