If you will stay close to nature, to its simplicity, to the small things hardly noticeable, those things can unexpectedly become great and immeasurable.
Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.
Death is the side of life which is turned away from us.
Every happiness is the child of a separation it did not think it could survive.
Our heart always transcends us.
Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows.
Surely all art is the result of one’s having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, where no one can go any further.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you, takes us together like a violin’s bow, which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us yesterday, separate, in the evening.
Your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the twilight, where the noise of other people passes, far in the distance.
One moment your life is a stone in you, and the next moment a star!
Perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad.
Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.
Love and death are the great gifts that are given to us; mostly they are passed on unopened.
If the angel deigns to come it will be because you have convinced her, not by tears but by your humble resolve to be always beginning; to be a beginner.
I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other.
Someday you will name me, then gently place those burning holy roses in my hair.
I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone.
Wishes are recollections coming from the future.
There are no classes in life for beginners; right away you are always asked to deal with what is most difficult.