“And we: spectators, always, everywhere,
at everything and never from!

It floods us. We arrange it. It decays.
We arrange it again, and we decay.

Who’s turned us around like this,
so that whatever we do, we always have
the look of someone going away? Just as a man
on the last hill showing him his whole valley
one last time, turns, and stops, and lingers –
so we live, and are forever leaving.”

— Rainer Marie Rilke,
from the Eighth Duino Elegy