Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.


Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God (ed. 1996)


Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.

Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.

Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.

Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.