It almost seems as if autumn were the true creator, more creative than the spring, which is too even-toned, more creative when it comes with its will-to-change and shatters the much too ready-made, self-satisfied and really almost bourgeois-complacent image of summer.

Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

Keep growing quietly and seriously throughout your whole development; you cannot disturb it more rudely than by looking outward and expecting from outside replies to questions that only your inmost feeling in your most hushed hour can perhaps answer.

I want to unfold. I don’t want to stay folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.

Be, in this immensity of night, the magic force at your sense's crossroad.

Think... of the world you carry within you.

Embrace your solitude and love it. Endure the pain it causes, and try to sing out with it. For those near to you are distant.