Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is acondition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union. Loneliness is small, solitude is large. Loneliness closes in around you; solitude expands toward the infinite. Loneliness has its… Continue reading Kent Nerburn
Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night. ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke, 1910-1926. (W. W. Norton & Company February 17, 1969)
… seek [that] which your own everyday life offers you; describe your sorrows and desires, passing thoughts and the belief in some sort of beauty–describe all these with loving, quiet, humble sincerity, and use, to express yourself, the things in your environment, the images from your dreams, the objects of your memory. — Rainer Maria… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke
The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul? — Oscar Wilde, ”De Profundis,” Originally published: 1905. De Profundis and Other… Continue reading Oscar Wilde
I hold this to be the highest task of a bond between two people: that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other. ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet. (Dover Publications May 8, 2002) Originally published 1929.
You die and you die and then you are beyond death. ― C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters. Published by Geoffrey Bles 1942, 1961 (first omnibus)
If you looked down to the bottom of my soul, you would understand fully the source of my longing and – pity me. Even the open, transparent lake has its unknown depths, which no divers know. — Hans Christian Andersen, Letter to Edvard Collin in 1835
I would never re-write you. You are by far my most complete and greatest novel. You and your splendor; lingering in my brain across a timelessly barefoot reality. — Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West, 23 November 1926.
I’ve typed myself into a fine nostalgia. — Elizabeth Bishop, letter to Robert Lowell, 14 December 1957, Words in Air: The Complete Correspondence Between Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2008)
It is vain futility to describe the way you smile; it is mere impossibility to speak at all when you are around. I don’t dare breathe. Keep smiling. I don’t dare move at all. — Friedrich Nietzsche, Selected Letters of Friedrich Nietzsche. (Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.; 2nd edition December 15, 1996)