Hands ought not to be a coffin.

We do not acquire wealth by letting something remain and wilt in our hands but only by letting everything pass through the festive gate of return and homecoming. Our hands ought not to be a coffin for us but a bed sheltering the twilight slumber and dreams of the things held there, out of whose depths their dearest secrets speak.  Once out of our hands, however, things ought to move forward, now sturdy and strong, and we should keep nothing of them but the courageous morning melody that hovers and shimmers behind their fading steps.

– Rainer Maria Rilke, letter to Elena Woronina, dated 9 March 1899

[via The Examined Life.]