What do the contours of your body mean, laid out like the lines on a hand, so that I no longer see them except as fate?
with poems one accomplishes so little when one writes them early. One should hold off and gather sense and sweetness a whole life long, a long life if possible, and then, right at the end, one could perhaps write ten lines that are good.
Rose, oh pure contradiction, joy of being No-one's sleep under so many lids.
Only those sadnesses are dangerous and bad which one carries about among people in order to drown them out.
True singing is a different breath, about nothing.
There are so many things about which some old man ought to tell one while one is little; for when one is grown one would know them as a matter of course.
It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical will live the relation to another as something alive.
Ideally a painter (and, generally, an artist) should not become conscious of his insights: without taking the detour through his reflective processes, and incomprehensibly to himself, all his progress should enter so swiftly into the work that he is unable to recognize them in the moment of transition. Alas, the artist who waits in ambush there, watching, detaining them, will find them transformed like the beautiful gold in the fairy tale which cannot remain gold because some small detail was not taken care of.
I would like to step out of my heart and go walking beneath the enormous sky.
As if no one had ever tried before, try to say what you see and feel and love and lose.
Works of Art are of an infinite loneliness.
We must assume our existence as broadly as we in any way can; everything, even the unheard - of, must be possible in it. This is at bottom the only courage that is demanded of us: to have courage for the most strange, the most inexplicable.
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