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Rainer Maria Rilke Biography

Rainer Maria Rilke

René Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke, better known as Rainer Maria Rilke (German: [ˈʁaɪnɐ maˈʁiːa ˈʁɪlkə]) (4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926), was a Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist. He is "widely recognized as one of the most lyrically intense German-language poets". He wrote both verse and highly-lyrical prose. Several critics have described Rilke's work as inherently "mystical". His writings include one novel, several collections of poetry and several volumes of correspondence in which he invokes haunting images that focus on the difficulty of communion with the ineffable in an age of disbelief, solitude and profound anxiety. These deeply existential themes tend to position him as a transitional figure between the traditional and the modernist writers.

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Rainer Maria Rilke Quotes

Works of art always spring from those who have faced the danger, gone to the very end of an experience, to the point beyond which no human being can go. The further one dares to go, the more decent, the more personal, the more unique a life becomes.

Art, Becomes, Experience, Spring, Unique

Someday there will be girls and women whose name will no longer mean the mere opposite of the male, but something in itself, something that makes one think not of any complement and limit, but only life and reality: the female human being.

Female, Girl, Limit, Mean, Reality, Women

If you will stay close to nature, to its simplicity, to the small things hardly noticeable, those things can unexpectedly become great and immeasurable.

Become, Inspiring, Nature, Simplicity, Small

sometimes a man stands up during supper and walks outdoors, and keeps on walking, because of a church that stands somewhere in the East. And his children say blessings on him as if he were dead. And another man, who remains inside his own house, stays there, inside the dishes and in the glasses, so that his children have to go far out into the world toward that same church, which he forgot.

Blessing, Blessings, Children, Men, Toward

All the soarings of my mind begin in my blood.

Begin, Blood, Mind, Of My Mind, Soarings

Look, I am living. On what? Neither childhood nor future lessens. . . . Superabundant existence wells in my heart.

Childhood, Existence, Heart, Looks, Wells

Nothing touches a work of art so little as words of criticism: they always result in more or less fortunate misunderstandings.

Art, Criticism, Littles, Nothing, Touches

Verses are not, as people think, feelings (those one has early enough) -- they are experiences. For the sake of a verse one must see many cities, men, and things, one must know the animals feel how birds fly, and know the gesture with which the little flowers open in the morning.

Flower, Fly, Gesture, Morning, Sake, Thinking

Everything is gestation and then birthing.

Birthing, Everything, Gestation

Don't observe yourself too closely. Don't be too quick to draw conclusions from what happens to you; simply let it happen.

Conclusion, Conclusions, Draw, Draws, Observation, Simply

I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.

Believe, I Believe, I Believe In, Spoken

Art too is just a way of living, and however one lives, one can, without knowing, prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it, more its neighbor, than in the unreal half-artistic professions, which, while they pretend to be close to art, in practice deny and attack the existence of all art - as, for example, all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called (and wants to be called) literature.

Art, Existence, Knowing, Practice, Real, Unreal

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?

Body, Fate, Hands, Laid, Longer, Mean

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

Carry, Healing, Think, Thinking, World

You must realise that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall.

Fall, Forgotten, Hands, Let, Life

For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each protects the solitude of the other. This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.

Giving, Human, People, Test, Two, Work

I am touched by your beautiful anxiety about life.

Anxiety, Beautiful, Touched, Worry

I want to love the things as no one has thought to love them.

Love, Things, Thought, Want

[A]t bottom, and just in the deepest and most important things, we are unutterably alone, and for one person to be able to advise or even help another, a lot must happen, a lot must go well, a whole constellation of things must come right in order once to succeed.

Able, Constellation, Important, Order, Person, Succeed

This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love; the more they give, the more they possess of that precious nourishing love from which flowers and children have their strength and which could help all human beings if they would take it without doubting.

Beings, Children, Flower, Human, Love, Miracle

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