Khalil Gibran Quotes (311 Quotes)

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

You who travel with the wind, what weather vane shall direct your course?

And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

They see only their shadows, and their shadows are their laws.

Your children are not your children.

And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.

And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.

For in truth it is life that gives unto life-while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.

Joy and sorrow are inseparable, together they came and where one sits alone with you at the board remember that the other is asleep upon your bed

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.

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.

For love is sufficient unto love.

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.

What is fear of need but need itself?

He who seeks ecstasy in love should not complain of suffering.

And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.

For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.

When love beckons to you, follow him,

To belittle, you have to be little.

And since you are a breath in God's sphere, and a leaf in God's forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.

For the soul walks upon all paths.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

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

For the vision of one man lends not its wings to another man.

Poichè l'amore come v'incorona così vi crocefigge. E come vi fa fiorire così vi reciderà.

Work with love, it is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart.

And that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.

For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.

So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.

Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.

And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless, all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth.

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

The lust for comfort kills the passions of the soul.

Would that you could live on the fragrance of the earth, and like an air plant be sustained by the light.

And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone.

For what is prayer but the expansion of your self into the living ether?

The mind speaks not more sweetly to the giant Oaks than to the least of all blades of grass, And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving

Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.