O tempo não é uma medida. Um ano não conta, dez anos não representam nada. Ser artista não significa contar, é crescer como a árvore que não apressa a sua seiva e resiste, serena, aos grandes ventos da primavera, sem temer que o verão possa não vir. O verão há de vir. Mas só vem para aqueles que sabem esperar, tão sossegados como se tivessem na frente a eternidade.
Rainer Maria RilkeMots clés inspirational
it is obvious that most people come to know only one corner of their room, one spot near the window, one narrow strip on which they keep walking back and forth.
Rainer Maria RilkeDo you recall, from your childhood on, how very much this life of yours has longed for greatness? I see it now, how from the vantage point of greatness it longs for even greater greatness. That is why it does not let up being difficult, but that is also why it will not cease to grow.
Rainer Maria RilkeNo, no, one can imagine nothing in the world, not the least thing. Everything is composed of so many isolated details that are not to be foreseen. In one's imagining one passes over them and hasty as one is doesn't notice that they are missing. But realities are slow and indescribably detailed.
Rainer Maria RilkeMots clés memory
They grope before them like blind people and find each the other as they would a door. Almost like children that dread the night, they press close into each other. And yet they are not afraid. There is nothing that might be against them: no yesterday, no morrow; for time is shattered. And they flower from its ruins.
He does not ask: 'Your husband?'
She does not ask: 'Your name?'
For indeed they have found each other, to be unto themselves a new generation.
They will give each other a hundred new names and take them all off again, gently, as one takes an earring off.
Não há nada que toque menos uma obra de arte do que palavras de crítica: elas não passam de mal-entendidos mais ou menos afortunados.
Rainer Maria RilkeMots clés inspirational
sometimes a man stands up during supper
and walks outdoors, and keeps on walking,
because of a church that stands somewhere in the East.
And his children say blessings on him as if he were dead.
And another man, who remains inside his own house,
stays there, inside the dishes and in the glasses,
so that his children have to go far out into the world
toward that same church, which he forgot.
Outside much has changed. I don't know how. But inside and before you, O my God, inside before you, spectator, are we not without action? We discover, indeed, that we do not know our part, we look for a mirror, we want to rub off the make-up and remove the counterfeit and be real. But somewhere a bit of mummery still sticks to us that we forget. A trace of exaggeration remains in our eyebrows, we do not notice that the corners of our lips are twisted. And thus we go about, a laughing-stock, a mere half-thing: neither existing, not actors.
Rainer Maria RilkeWho, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies?
Rainer Maria RilkeJoy is a marvelous increasing of what exists, a pure addition out of nothingness.
Rainer Maria RilkeMots clés joy
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