So it goes

So you look for a path, going ahead and searching as if there could be a highway somewhere with a paved road laid out.
And sure, there are many. So many paths. How do you choose?
He says, 'It is not you who chooses. The Path chooses you'.



'He's a child,' she says. 'You don't choose a path, and a path doesn't choose you. Its a courtship. You look around, you flirt, something catches your eye. Suitors come and go, some obviously wrong for you, some that appear too perfect, some that you've perhaps experienced before. Your path is never your path, it has its own whims. Your path is your mate for life, and



when you are together you won't have to die alone.'

Rainer Maria Rilke

There is only one kind of Rilke, and that's a poet who was dressed as a girl until he was 5. (And that is greatness)