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Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.And without feet I can make my way to you,without a mouth I can swear y...more

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Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.

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The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.

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You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start, I don't even know what songs would please you. I have given up trying to reco...more

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This is the creature there has never been.They never knew it, and yet, none the less,they loved the way it moved, its suppleness,its neck, its very ga...more

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we want it visible to showwhen even the most visible joy will reveal itselfonly when we have transformed it within.there’s nowhere, my love, the wo...more

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She who reconciles the ill-matched threadsOf her life, and weaves them gratefullyInto a single cloth – It’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hal...more

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I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world.

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Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were behind you, like the winter that has just gone by. For among these winters there is one so endlessl...more

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Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to y...more

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His vision, from the constantly passing bars,has grown so weary that it cannot holdanything else. It seems to him there area thousand bars, and behind...more

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O Stunden in der Kindheit,da hinter den Figuren mehr als nurVergangnes war und vor uns nicht die Zukunft.

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For even the best err in words when they are meant to mean most delicate and almost inexpressible things.

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Art too is just a way of living.

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Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.