Painting is

"Painting is something that takes place among the colors, and ... one has to leave them alone completely, so that they can settle the matter among themselves. Their intercourse: this is the whole of painting. Whoever meddles, arranges, injects his human deliberation, his wit, his advocacy, his intellectual agility in any way, is already disturbing and clouding their activity."

~Rainer Maria Rilke

But if the archangel now

But if the archangel now, perilous, from behind the stars took even one step down toward us: our own heart, beating higher and higher, would beat us to death. Who are you?

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Angels

Angels (it's said) would be often unable to tell whether they moved among living or dead. The eternal torrent whirls all the ages through either realm for ever, and sounds above their voices in both.

~Rainer Marie Rilke

Who?

Who if I cried out, would hear me among the angels' hierarchies? and even if one of them pressed me suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed in that overwhelming existence.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

May I

May I burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

There is

There is only one journey. Going inside yourself.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Look I am living

Look, I am living. On what? Neither childhood nor future
grows any smaller... Superabundant being
wells up in my heart.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Ah, not to be cut off

Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner - what is it?
if not intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.

~Rainer Maria Rilke