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A still rising terror

Photograph by Matilda Rilke had chosen as his own epitaph this poem: Rose, oh pure contradiction, delight of being no one's sleep under so   many lids. “I confess that I consider life to be a thing of the most untouchable deliciousness, and that even the confluence of so many disasters and deprivations, the exposure of countless fates, everything that insurmountably increased for us over the past few years to become a still rising terror cannot distract me from the fullness and goodness of existence that is inclined toward us.”  ― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters on Life: New Prose Translations I can only guess at the nature of events that caused "a still rising terror" within Rilke, having read about his life which, in many instances could have silenced, and in some, almost did silence him completely as a poet.       And yet, he wrote these words, giving me hope when I am faced with exactly something similar, "a still rising terror", at something I c...