The work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.
Rainer Maria RilkeIsn't it time that these most ancient sorrows of ours grew fruitful? Time that we tenderly loosed ourselves from the loved one, and, unsteadily, survived: the way the arrow, suddenly all vector, survives the string to be more than itself. For abiding is nowhere.
Rainer Maria Rilke