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"This book is TEDIOUS. Everything about the mc is min-maxed to hell and I get it, late adolescence is confusing and frustrating, but my god get on with it." — Sep 12, 2025 07:30AM
"This book is TEDIOUS. Everything about the mc is min-maxed to hell and I get it, late adolescence is confusing and frustrating, but my god get on with it." — Sep 12, 2025 07:30AM
“There are too many books I haven’t read, too many places I haven’t seen, too many memories I haven’t kept long enough.”
―
―
“God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.”
― Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.”
― Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
“I like being alone. I have control over my own shit. Therefore, in order to win me over, your presence has to feel better than my solitude. You're not competing with another person, you are competing with my comfort zones.”
―
―
“If we surrendered
to earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.
Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making
and struggle, lonely and confused.
So like children, we begin again...
to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.”
― Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
to earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.
Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making
and struggle, lonely and confused.
So like children, we begin again...
to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.”
― Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
duo-la’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at duo-la’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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