Despair is the result of each earnest attempt to go through life with virtue, justice and understanding, and to fulfill their requirements. Children live on one side of despair, the awakened on the other side. ― Hermann Hesse, The Journey to the East. ( Samuel Fischer 1932, Published in English 1956)
I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some… Continue reading Hermann Hesse
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
No permanence is ours; we are a wave That flows to fit whatever form it finds: Through day or night, cathedral or the cave We pass forever, craving form that binds. – Hermann Hesse, from “Lament,” The Glass Bead Game: A Novel. (Picador; First edition, December 6, 2002) Originally published 1943.
There’s something to walking with autumnal thoughts through the evening fog. One likes to compose poems at a time like that. ― Hermann Hesse, Demian. Die Geschichte von Emil Sinclairs Jugend, (Suhrkamp Verlag, May 3, 1996) Originally published 1919.
A savage desire for strong emotions and sensations burns inside me: a rage against this soft-tinted, shallow, standardized and sterilized life, and a mad craving to smash something up, a department store, say, or a cathedral, or myself. — Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf: A Novel. (Penguin Books, Limited (UK); New Ed edition February 25, 1999) Originally… Continue reading Hermann Hesse
O dark gate, O dark hour of death, Come forth, So I can recover from this life’s emptiness, And go home to my own dreams. — Hermann Hesse, “Childhood” (1915) Found in New Selected Poems of T Byron Kelly. (Universe, December 3, 2009)
Once it happened, as I lay awake at night, that I suddenly spoke in verses, in verses so beautiful and strange that I did not venture to think of writing them down, and then in the morning they vanished; and yet they lay hidden within me like the hard kernel within an old brittle husk.… Continue reading Hermann Hesse
The call of death is a call of love. Death can be sweet if we answer it in the affirmative, if we accept it as one of the great eternal forms of life and transformation. ― Hermann Hesse
How I used to love the dark, sad evenings of late autumn and winter, how eagerly I imbibed their moods of loneliness and melancholy when wrapped in my cloak I strode for half the night through rain and storm, through the leafless winter landscape, lonely enough then too, but full of deep joy, and full… Continue reading Hermann Hesse