required of her if she is to see that ‘he is nothing of all that I know and am, and only if all becomes nothing for me can he become my All’. ‘Whoever refuses to go out at night in search of the Beloved … but rather seeks him in his own … comfort … will not succeed in finding him.’76 The love that survives every death but which also has to undergo every death in order to survive: this is the solution of the agonizing paradox of how supreme poetic beauty can blossom
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