I creep about all day in the thickets of my life, screaming like a wild man and clapping my hands. WHILST ENSCONSED IN an Italian mediaeval castle on the Adriatic coast writing the Duino Elegies, what critics believe to be his greatest poetical composition, Rainer Maria Rilke (4th December 1875–29th December 1926) struggled with melancholy and depression, admitting to his host, Marie Taxis: “Things must first get bad, worse, worst, beyond what any language can hold. Yes, even to begin from this realization.” But how much better it is to recognize that we are alone We can delude ourselves about this and act as if it were not true. Photograph: Fair Use The act of being alone
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