O ivory, delicate hands!
O face that hovers
Between ‘To-come’ and ‘Was,’
Ivory thou wast,
A rose thou wilt be.
·
O ivory, delicate hands!
O face that hovers
Between ‘To-come’ and ‘Was,’
Ivory thou wast,
A rose thou wilt be.
“There is only one single way. Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you have to die if it were denied you to write. This above all – ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write?”
Rainer Maria Rilke | Letters to a Young Poet