I love the one whose soul is overfull so that he forgets himself, and all things are in him; I love the one who has a free spirit and a free heart: thus his head is only the entrails of his heart, but his heart drives him to go under. — Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke… Continue reading Friedrich Nietzsche
You are the second one amidst your loneliness, the quiet center of each monologue: and any circle drawn round you exceeds the tent of time. — Rainer Maria Rilke, from “The Book of the Monkish Life,” First Book; The Book of Hours: Prayers to a Lowly God, trans. Annemarie S. Kidder (Northwestern University Press, 2001)
My grief is my castle, which like an eagle’s nest is built high up on the mountain peaks among the clouds; nothing can storm it. From it I fly down into reality to seize my prey; but i do not remain down there, I bring it home with me, and this prey is a picture… Continue reading Søren Kierkegaard
Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your… Continue reading C.S. Lewis
I believe that there is a longing in my soul that searches the whole world. — Søren Kierkegaard, Kierkegaard’s Writings, IV, Part II: Either/Or: Part II. (Princeton University Press, 2013)
Deeply, he felt the love for the run-away in his heart, like a wound, and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it, that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. , the wound was not blossoming… Continue reading Hermann Hesse
There is no greater sorrow then to recall our times of joy in wretchedness. ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno (The Divine Comedy). (Modern Library, December 9, 2003) Originally 1320.
