Fame, that public destruction of one in process of becoming, into whose building-ground the mob breaks, displacing his stones.

And you suddenly know: It was here! You pull yourself together, and there stands an irrevocable year of anguish and vision and prayer.

Our being is continually undergoing and entering upon changes. ... We must, strictly speaking, at every moment give each other up and let each other go and not hold each other back.

I live my life in widening circle That reach out across the world. I may not ever complete the last one, But I give myself to it. I circle around God, that primordial tower. I have been circling for thousands of years, And I still don't know: am I a falcon, A storm, or a great song? [I, 2]

Trees do not force their sap, nor does the flower push its bloom.

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?

I am too alone in the world and not alone enough to make every moment holy.