Every man loves two women;the one is the creation of his imagination and the other is not yet born.

Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran

Profession: Poet
Nationality: Lebanese

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For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?

Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings, for my fellowmen are not in want of me.

And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfillment.

But I say to you that when you work you fulfill a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born, And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life, And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.

He never hearkened to the dictates of his heart, but busied himself in obeying the voices of his environment. H e amused himself with shimmering objects that blinded his eyes and heart to life's secrets; his soul was diverted away from an understanding of the law of nature, and to a temporary self-gratification.

Yesterday was a beautiful tune on the lips of life and today is a silent secret.

Mayhap a funeral among men is a wedding feast among the angels.

A great singer is he who sings our silences.

Then a lawyer said, But what of our laws, master? And he answered: 'You delight in laying down laws. Yet you delight more in breaking them.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may livethrough its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear - a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.

The optimist sees the rose and not its thorns; the pessimist stares at the thorns, oblivious to the rose.

The poet is a pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.