"I exiled myself from you. And you let it happen. You are not Rilke’s
angel! The one who no longer loves the heavens and, when the human he belongs to
sets him free, bows his face toward him with longing. But perhaps this too
is my fault. I left you too little space in your creation; you could not move
much. I did not imagine your only movement would be toward me.
Do you remember when I forbade you to smile? I had desired you to be an
angel of silence. Perhaps you touched me every now and then; who
could know? But my words turned you rigid and carved a valley between us.
When I realized this, you had already withdrawn into your own distance
and turned to marble; I had to continue on my way to see you not remain in that petrified state,
but thaw and warm up with your limbs... If I could have stayed silent, everything
would have been so easy. I possessed you only before putting you into
words. And when I placed you outside of myself, when you became an image
and no longer lived solely in my thoughts, I lost you completely."