You often say, ‘I would give, but only to the deserving.' The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.

Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran

Profession: Poet
Nationality: Lebanese

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Life without liberty is like a body without spirit.

The chemist who can extract from his heart's elements compassion, respect, longing, patience, regret, surprise, and forgiveness and compound them into one can create that atom which is called love.

I have a yearning for my beautiful country, and I love its people because of their misery. But if my people rose, stimulated by plunder and motivated by what they call "patriotic spirit" to murder, and invaded my neighbour's country, then upon the committing of any human atrocity I would hate my people and my country.

Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and enlivens the other who turns it on his fellow man.

Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward what is arcane and concealed.

You progress not through improving what has been done but reaching toward what has yet to be done.

It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears. It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.

And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit. For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

But you who walk facing the sun, what images drawn on the earth can hold you?

Long ago you were a dream in your mother's sleep, and then she awoke to give you birth.

It were wiser to speak less of God, Whom we cannot understand, and more of each other, whom we may understand.

And if you but listen in the stillness of the night, you shall hear them saying in silence, 'Our God, who art our winged self... we cannot ask thee for aught, for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us; Thou art our needs, and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all.

You were born together, and together you shall be for evermore.

My friend, it was but a song of love out of a poet's heart, sung by every man to every woman.