For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran

Profession: Poet
Nationality: Lebanese

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The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.

I deserted the world and sought solitude because I became tired of rendering courtesy to those multitudes who believe that humility is a sort of weakness, and mercy a kind of cowardice, and snobbery a form of strength.

And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Oh, heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains.

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?

What is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names.

Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.

The tears that you spill the sorrowful are sweeter than the laughter of snobs and the guffaws of scoffers.

You often say, I would give, but only to the deserving.

And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation.