Ah, whom can we even turn to
in our need? not angels, not humans,
and already the knowing animals are aware
that we are not really at home
in our interpreted world. perhaps there remains for us
some tree on a hillside, which every day
we can take into our vision; there remains for us
      yesterday's street
and the loyalty of a habit so much at ease
when it stayed with us that it moved in and never left.


rainer maria rilke, elegy