Rainer Maria Rilke Quotes

The crooked little tomato branches, pulpy and pale as if made of cheap green paper, broke under the weight of so much fruit; there was something frantic in such fertility, a crying-out like that of children frantic to please.

The tree that is beside the running water is fresher and gives more fruit.

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls everywhere.

If I have one wish for my birthday, it is that 35 is the end of desperation and the beginning of acceptance. Part of that is believing that if I'm meant to give birth, I will.

It is like the seed put in the soil - the more one sows, the greater the harvest.

I always figure I have this tree and there's always some green fruit that's not ready to pick or blossoms that are ready to flower; there are always some ready to drop off too.

The Empress has been connected with the ideas of universal fecundity and in a general sense with activity.

Learning is like a cow of desire. It, like her, yields in all seasons.

All the seasons run their race In this quiet resting-place; Peach, and apricot, and fig Here will ripen, and grow big; Here is store and overplus - More had not Alcinous!

Abundance is mine. I cannot be deprived of my supply. The trees do not lack for leaves, nor do the flowers fail to bloom.

From one seed a whole handful: that was what it meant to say the bounty of the earth.

As from a large heap of flowers many garlands and wreaths are made, so by a mortal in this life there is much good work to be done.

Adversity is like the period of the rain. . . cold, comfortless, unfriendly to people and to animals; yet from that season have their birth the flower, the fruit, the date, the rose and the pomegranate.

All rejection and negation indicates a deficiency in fertility: fundamentally, if only we were good plowland we would allow nothing to go unused, and in every thing, event, and person we would welcome manure, rain, or sunshine.

Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants at tree, is more than all.

August creates as she slumbers, replete and satisfied.

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade. Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.

Every blade of grass is a study; and to produce two, where there was but one, is both a profit and a pleasure.

Like the water of a deep stream, love is always too much. We did not make it. Though we drink till we burst, we cannot have it all, or want it all. In its abundance it survives our thirst. In the evening we come down to the shore to drink our fill, and sleep, while it flows through the regions of the dark. It does not hold us, except we keep returning to its rich waters thirsty. We enter, willing to die, into the commonwealth of its joy.

You become a serious novelist by living long enough.

Life will teach you, but you have to live long enough to get those lessons.

Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms; If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you; If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees.

The rose has no 'Why?' It flowers because it flowers.