Whoever you are, go out into the evening, leaving your room, of which you know every bit; your house is the last before the infinite, whoever you are.

Let everything happen to you Beauty and terror Just keep going No feeling is final

What we fight with is so small, and when we win, it makes us small. What we want is to be defeated, decisively, by successively greater things

Love and death are the great gifts that are given to us; mostly they are passed on unopened.

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'hierarchies? and even if one of thempressed me against his heart: I would be consumedin that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothingbut the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure,and we are so awed because it serenely disdainsto annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.

What batters you becomes your strength.

Dig deep into your heart, where the answer spreads its roots in your being, and ask yourself solemnly, Must I write?