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Rainer Maria Rilke

O how complete I was, nothing calling, nothing that divulged me; my stillness was like a stone’s over which the brook makes its murmuring. But now in these spring weeks something has slowly broken me off from the dark unconscious year. Something has given my poor warm life into the hand of someone random who… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke

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Friedrich Nietzsche

I overcame myself, the sufferer; I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for myself. And behold, then this ghost fled from me. — Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Translated by Walter Kaufman. (Penguin Books; Later Printing edition March 30, 1978)

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Rainer Maria Rilke

Someday if I lose you,how will you sleep withoutmy whispering above youlike the linden’s branches? Without my lying hereawake and placing words, almostlike eyelids, on your breasts,your limbs, your lips. Without my closing youand leaving you alone with what is yourslike a garden with a massof mint-balm and star-anise. — Rainer Maria Rilke, “Lullaby,” The… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke

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Rainer Maria Rilke

We must not portray you in king’s robes,you drifting mist that brought forth the morning. Once again from the old paintboxeswe take the same gold for scepter and crownthat has disguised you through the ages. Piously we produce our images of youtill they stand around you like a thousand walls.And when our hearts would simply… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke

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Friedrich Nietzsche

My heartbeat has reached the epitome of rottenness; It is no longer part of my heart. Time for the shadows to come and grab me by the brain. Dearest, I am asking you again: Just how far is the sky? — Friedrich Nietzsche, Selected Letters. (Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.; 2nd edition, December 15, 1996) Originally… Continue reading Friedrich Nietzsche

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