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The Brooks Flow To Their Lover, The Sea, And The Flowers Smile At The Object Of Their Passion, The Light. The Mist Rolls Down To Its Beloved, The Valley. And I? In Me Is What Brooks Do Not Know, What Flowers Do Not Hear, What The Mist Does Not Apprehend. You See Me Alone In My Love, Solitary In My Yearning.

-Khalil Gibran

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The Brooks Flow To

Khalil Gibran

...

The Brooks Flow To Their Lover, The Sea, And The Flowers Smile At The Object Of Their Passion, The Light. The Mist Rolls Down To Its Beloved, The Valley. And I? In Me Is What Brooks Do Not Know, What Flowers Do Not Hear, What The Mist Does Not Apprehend. You See Me Alone In My Love, Solitary In My Yearning.

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Man Is Like The Foam Of The Sea, That Floats Upon The Surface Of The Water. When The Wind Blows, It Vanishes, As If It Had Never Been. Thus Are Our Lives Blown Away By Death.

An Eye For An Eye, And The Whole World Would Be Blind.

It Was In My Heart To Help A Little Because I Was Helped Much.

You Who Are Strong And Swift, See That You Do Not Limp Before The Lame, Deeming It Kindness.

If My Survival Caused Another To Perish, Then Death Would Be Sweeter And More Beloved.

If You Cannot Work With Love But Only With Distaste, It Is Better That You Should Leave Your Work.

Of The Good In You I Can Speak, But Not Of The Evil. For What Is Evil But Good Tortured By Its Own Hunger And Thirst? Verily When Good Is Hungry It Seeks Food Even In Dark Caves, And When It Thirsts It Drinks Even Of Dead Waters.

And What Word Is Knowledge But A Shadow Of Wordless Knowledge?

Faith Is A Knowledge Within The Heart, Beyond The Reach Of Proof.

You Give But Little When You Give Of Your Possessions. It Is When You Give Of Yourself That You Truly Give.

Life Is But A Sleep Disturbed By Dreaming, Prompted By The Will; The Saddened Soul With Sadness Hides It's Secrets, And The Gay, With Thrill.

If Your Knowledge Teaches You Not To Rise Above Human Weakness And Misery And Lead Your Fellow Man On The Right Path, You Are Indeed A Man Of Little Worth And Will Remain Such Till Judgment Day.

The Thirst Of Soul Is Sweeter Than The Wine Of Material Things, And The Fear Of Spirit Is Dearer Than The Security Of The Body.

In The Depth Of Your Hopes And Desires Lies Your Silent Knowledge Of The Beyond.

Your Pain Is The Breaking Of The Shell That Encloses Your Understanding. It Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self. Therefore, Trust The Physician And Drink His Remedy In Silence And Tranquility.

Much Of Your Pain Is The Bitter Potion By Which The Physician Within You Heals Your Sick Self.

Wit Is Often A Mask. If You Tear It You Will Find Either Genius Irritated Or Cleverness Juggling.

But Memory Is An Autumn Leaf That Murmurs A While In The Wind And Then Is Heard No More.

You Shall Be Free Indeed When Your Days Are Not Without A Care, Nor Your Nights Without A Want And A Grief, But Rather When These Things Girdle Your Life And Yet You Rise Above Them Naked And Unbound.

But If You Love And Must Needs Have Desires, Let These Be Your Desires: To Melt And Be Like A Running Brook That Sings Its Melody To The Night. To Know The Pain Of Too Much Tenderness. To Be Wounded By Your Own Understanding Of Love; And To Bleed Willingly And Joyfully. To Wake At Dawn With A Winged Heart And Give Thanks For Another Day Of Loving; To Rest At Noon Hour And Meditate Love's Ecstasy; To Return Home At Eventide With Gratitude; And Then To Sleep With A Prayer For The Beloved In Your Heart And A Song Of Praise On Your Lips.

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 "i" In Me, My Friend, Dwells In The House Of Silence, And Therein It Shall Remain For Ever More, Unperceived, Unapproachable.

And Then To Sleep With A Prayer For The Beloved In Your Heart And A Song Of Praise Upon Your Lips.

Love Is The Only Flower That Grows And Blossoms Without The Aid Of The Seasons

The Love Of A Parent For A Child Is The Love That Should Grow Towards Separation.

Behold, I Have Reached The Peak Of The Mountain And My Spirit Has Taken Flight In The Heavens Of Freedom And Liberation. I Have Gone Far, Far Away, O Children Of My Mother; The Hills Beyond The Mists Are Now Hidden From My View, The Last Traces Of The Valleys Have Been Flooded By The Ocean Of Serenity, And The Paths And Trails Have Been Erased By The Hand Of Oblivion. The Roar Of Ocean Waves Has Faded. I No Longer Hear Anything But The Anthem Of Eternity, Which Harmonizes With The Spirit.

Friendship With The Ignorant Is As Foolish As Arguing With A Drunkard.

They Consider Me To Have Sharp And Penetrating Vision Because I See Them Through The Mesh Of A Sieve.

Your Daily Life Is Your Temple And Your Religion. When You Enter Into It Take With You Your All.

For The Sight Of The Angry Weather Saddens My Soul And The Sight Of The Town, Sitting Like A Bereaved Mother Beneath Layers Of Ice, Oppresses My Heart.

In The Autumn I Gathered All My Sorrows And Buried Them In My Garden. And When April Returned And Spring Came To Wed The Earth, There Grew In My Garden Beautiful Flowers Unlike All Other Flowers. And My Neighbors Came To Behold Them, And They All Said To Me, "when Autumn Comes Again, At Seeding Time, Will You Not Give Us Of The Seeds Of These Flowers That We May Have Them In Our Gardens?"

Miserable Is The Man Who Loves A Woman And Takes Her For His Wife, Pouring At Her Feet The Sweat Of His Skin And The Blood Of His Body And The Life Of His Heart, And Placing Her In The Hands Of The Fruit Of His Toil And The Revenue Of His Diligence; For When He Slowly Wakes Up, He Finds That The Heart That He Endeavored To Buy Is Given Away Freely And In Sincerity To Another Man For The Enjoyment Of Its Hidden Secrets And Deepest Love.

And When One Of You Falls Down He Falls For Those Behind Him, A Caution Against The Stumbling Stone. Ay, And He Falls For Those Ahead Of Him, Who Though Faster And Surer Of Foot, Yet Removed Not The Stumbling Stone.

Am I A Harp That The Hand Of The Mighty May Touch Me, Or A Flute That His Breath May Pass Through Me? A Seeker Of Silences Am I, And What Treasure Have I Found In Silences That I May Dispense With Confidence?

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

If Your Heart Is A Volcano, How Shall You Expect Flowers To Bloom?

Strange, The Desire For Certain Pleasures Is A Part Of My Pain.

Who Can Depart From His Pain And Aloneness Without Regret? 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. It Is Not A Garment I Cast Off This Day, Bit A Skin That I Tear With My Own Hands... Yet I Cannot Tarry Longer.

The Mother Is Everything - She Is Our Consolation In Sorrow, Our Hope In Misery, And Our Strength In Weakness. She Is The Source Of Love, Mercy, Sympathy, And Forgiveness. He Who Loses His Mother Loses A Pure Soul Who Blesses And Guards Him Constantly

For Life And Death Are One, Even As The River And The Sea Are One.

To Be Closer To God, Be Closer To People.

A Truly Religious Man Does Not Embrace A Religion; And He Who Embraces One Has No Religion.

Love Provided Me With A Tongue And Tears.

You Cannot Judge Any Man Beyond Your Knowledge Of Him, And How Small Is Your Knowledge.

And As A Single Leaf Turns Not Yellow But With The Silent Knowledge Of The Whole Tree.

Love Is The Veil Between Lover And Lover.

Oh Heart, If One Should Say To You That The Soul Perishes Like The Body, Answer That The Flower Withers, But The Seed Remains.

Love Has No Other Desire But To Fulfill Itself, But If You Love And Must Needs Have Desires, Let These Be Your Desires.

Tenderness And Kindness Are Not Signs Of Weakness And Despair, But Manifestations Of Strength And Resolution.

I Am One Of Those Who Believe That Spiritual Progress Is A Rule Of Human Life, But The Approach To Perfection Is Slow And Painful. If A Woman Elevates Herself In One Respect And Is Retarded In Another, It Is Because The Rough Trail That Leads To The Mountain Peak Is Not Free Of Ambushes Of Thieves And Lairs Of Wolves.

From A Sensitive Woman's Heart Springs The Happiness Of Mankind, And From The Kindness Of Her Noble Spirit Comes Mankind's Affection.

I Am Bored With Gabbers And Their Gab; My Soul Abhors Them. . . . Is There Any Place Where There Is No Traffic In Empty Talk? Is There On This Earth One Who Does Not Worship Himself Talking?

For What Is It To Die But To Stand Naked In The Wind And To Melt Into The Sun? And What Is It To Cease Breathing But To Free The Breath From Its Restless Tides, That It May Rise And Expand And Seek God Unencumbered? Only When You Drink From The River Of Silence Shall You Indeed Sing. And When You Have Reached The Mountaintop,then You Shall Begin To Climb. And When The Earth Shal Claim Your Limbs,then Shall You Truly Dance.

Where Is The Justice Of Political Power If It Executes The Murderer And Jails The Plunderer, And Then Itself Marches Upon Neighboring Lands, Killing Thousands And Pillaging The Very Hills?

Reason Is Not Like The Goods Sold In The Market Places--the More Plentiful They Are, The Less They Are Worth. Reason's Worth Waxes With Her Abundance. But Were She Sold In The Market, It Is Only The Wise Man Who Would Understand Her True Value.

The Deeper That Sorrow Carves Into Your Being, The More Joy You Can Contain.

Your Pain Is The Breaking Of The Shell That Encloses Your Understanding. Even As The Stone Of The Fruit Must Break, That Its Heart May Stand In The Sun, So Must You Know Pain.

Be Like A Flower And Turn Your Face To The Sun.

If I Extend An Empty Hand And In Retrieving It And Finding It Still Empty, I Feel Disappointment, That Is Foolishness; Yet If I Extend A Hand Which Is Full And Yet Find No One To Receive It, Then That Is Hopelessness.

The Optimist Sees The Rose And Not Its Thorns; The Pessimist Stares At The Thorns, Oblivious To The Rose.

Behind The Veil Of Each Night, There Is A Smilling Dawn.

And If You Would Know God, Be Not Therefore A Solver Of Riddles. Rather Look About You And You Shall See Him Playing With Your Children. And Look Into Space; You Shall See Him Walking In The Cloud, Outstretching His Arms In The Lightning And Descending In Rain. You Shall See Him Smiling In Flowers, Then Rising And Waving His Hands In Trees.

When God Threw Me, A Pebble, Into This Wondrous Lake, I Disturbed Its Surface With Countless Circles. But When I Reached The Depths, I Became Very Still.

Your Life Is An Island Separated From All Other Islands And Continents. Regardless Of How Many Boats You Send To Other Shores Or How Many Ships Arrive Upon Your Shores, You Yourself Are An Island Separated By Its Own Pains, Secluded In Its Happiness

For What Is Prayer But The Expansion Of Your Self Into The Living Ether?

When Life Does Not Find A Singer To Sing Her Heart She Produces A Philosopher To Speak Her Mind.

For In Truth It Is Life That Gives Unto Life-while You, Who Deem Yourself A Giver, Are But A Witness.

When Your Friend Speaks His Mind You Fear Not The 'nay' In Your Own Mind, Nor Do You Withhold The 'ay. And When He Is Silent Your Heart Ceases Not To Listen To His Heart; For Without Words, In Friendship, All Thoughts, All Desires, All Expectations Are Born And Shared, With Joy That Is Unacclaimed. When You Part From Your Friend, You Grieve Not; For That Which You Love Most In Him May Be Clearer In His Absence, As The Mountain To The Climber Is Clearer From The Plain.

Your Friend Is Your Field Which You Sow With Love And Reap With Thanksgiving.

When You Have Solved All The Mysteries Of Life You Long For Death, For It Is But Another Mystery Of Life.

Mystery Of Life

Joy And Sorrow Are Inseparable. . . Together They Come And When One Sits Alone With You . . Remember That The Other Is Asleep Upon Your Bed.

Safeguarding The Rights Of Others Is The Most Noble And Beautiful End Of A Human Being.

Many A Doctrine Is Like A Window Pane. We See Truth Through It But It Divides Us From Truth.

Of Time You Would Make A Stream Upon Whose Bank You Would Sit And Watch Its Flowing. Yet The Timeless In You Is Aware Of Life's Timelessness, And Knows That 'yesterday Is But Today's Memory And Tomorrow Is Today's Dream.

A Word I Want To See Written On My Grave: I Am Alive Like You, And I Am Standing Beside You. Close Your Eyes And Look Around, You Will See Me In Front Of You.

It Was But Yesterday I Thought Myself A Fragment Quivering Without Rhythm In The Sphere Of Life. Now I Know That I Am The Sphere, And All Life In Rhythmic Fragments Moves Within Me.

Women Opened The Windows Of My Eyes And The Doors Of My Spirit. Had It Not Been For The Woman-mother, The Woman-sister, And The Woman-friend, I Would Have Been Sleeping Among Those Who Seek The Tranquility Of The World With Their Snoring.

The Saint And The Sinner Are Twin Brothers...one Was Born But The Moment Before The Other.

Perhaps A Man May Commit Suicide In Self-defense.

When God Created Man, He Gave Him Music As A Language Different From All Other Languages. And Early Man Sang His Glory In The Wilderness; And Drew The Hearts Of Kings And Moved Them From Their Thrones.

When You Reach The End Of What You Should Know, You Will Be At The Beginning Of What You Should Sense.

The Veil That Clouds Your Eyes Shall Be Lifted By The Hands That Wove It.

True Love Cannot Be Found Where It Truly Does Not Exist, Nor Can It Be Hidden Where It Truly Does. Anonymous Love Possesses Not Nor Would It Be Possessed; For Love Is Sufficient Unto Love.

A Voice Cannot Carry The Tongue And The Lips That Gave It Wings. Alone Must It Seek The Ether. And Alone And Without His Nest Shall The Eagle Fly Across The Sun.

Is Not Dread Of Thirst When Your Well Is Full, The Thirst That Is Unquenchable?

Reason Without Learning Is Like The Untilled Soil, Or Like The Human Body That Lacks Nourishment.

The Tears That You Spill, The Sorrowful, Are Sweeter Than The Laughter Of Snobs And The Guffaws Of Scoffers.

March On. Do Not Tarry. To Go Forward Is To Move Toward Perfection. March On, And Fear Not The Thorns, Or The Sharp Stones On Life's Path.

The Power To Love Is God's Greatest Gift To Man, For It Never Will Be Taken From The Blessed One Who Loves.

You Talk When You Cease To Be At Peace With Your Thoughts.

Thought Provoking

I Am Ignorant Of Absolute Truth. But I Am Humble Before My Ignorance And Therein Lies My Honor And My Reward.

History Does Not Repeat Itself Except In The Minds Of Those Who Do Not Know History.

When You Reach The Heart Of Life You Shall Find Beauty In All Things, Even In The Eyes That Are Blind To Beauty.

Your Soul Is Oftentimes A Battlefield, Upon Your Reason And Your Judgment Wage War Against Your Passion And Your Appetite.

Friendship Is Always A Sweet Responsibility, Never An Opportunity.

Qualities Of Good Citizens... Is To Admire What Others Have Created In Love And Faith

Life Without Love Is Like A Tree Without Blossoms Or Fruit.” “love Has No Other Desire But To Fulfill Itself. To Melt And Be Like A Running Brook That Sings Its Melody To The Night. To Wake At Dawn With A Winged Heart And Give Thanks For Another Day Of Loving

When Love Beckons To You, Follow Him, Though His Ways Are Hard And Steep. And When His Wings Enfold You Yield To Him, Though The Sword Hidden Among His Pinions May Wound You.

You Can Muffle The Drum, And You Can Loosen The Strings Of The Lyre, But Who Shall Command The Skylark Not To Sing?

Love... It Surrounds Every Being And Extends Slowly To Embrace All That Shall Be.

Seek Ye Counsel Of The Aged For Their Eyes Have Looked On The Faces Of The Years And Their Ears Have Hardened To The Voices Of Life. Even If Their Counsel Is Displeasing To You, Pay Heed To Them.

Education Sows Not Seeds In You, But Makes Your Seeds Grow.

A Sense Of Humour Is A Sense Of Proportion.

He That Tries To Seize An Opportunity After It Has Passed Him By Is Like One Who Sees It Approach But Will Not Go To Meet It.

And Some Of Your Elders Remember Pleasures With Regret Like Wrongs Committed In Drunkenness. But Regret Is The Beclouding Of The Mind And Not Its Chastisement. They Should Remember Their Pleasures With Gratitude, As They Would The Harvest Of A Summer.

Spring Is Beautiful Everywhere, But It Is More Than Beautiful In Lebanon. Spring Is The Spirit Of An Unknown God Speeding Through The World, Which, As It Reaches Lebanon, Pauses, Because Now It Is As At Home With The Souls Of The Prophets And Kings Hovering Over The Land, Chanting With The Brooks Of Judea, The Eternal Psalms Of Solomon, Renewing With The Cedars Of Lebanon Memories Of An Ancient Glory.

Now Let Us Play Hide And Seek. Should You Hide In My Heart It Would Not Be Difficult To Find You. But Should You Hide Behind Your Own Shell, Then It Would Be Useless For Anyone To Seek You.

Your Saying 'i Do Not Understand You' Is Praise Beyond My Worth, And An Insult You Do Not Deserve.

Your Living Is Determined Not So Much By What Life Brings To You As By The Attitude You Bring To Life; Not So Much By What Happens To You As By The Way Your Mind Looks At What Happens.

The Tiny Flame That Lights Up The Human Heart Is Like A Blazing Torch That Comes Down From Heaven To Light Up The Paths Of Mankind. For In One Soul Are Contained The Hopes And Feelings Of All Mankind.

My Soul Gave Me Good Counsel, Teaching Me To Love What The People Abhor And To Show Good Will Toward The One They Hate. It Showed Me That Love Is A Property Not Of The Lover But Of The Beloved. Before My Soul Taught Me, Love Was For Me A Delicate Thread Stretched Between Two Adjacent Pegs, But Now It Has Been Transformed Into A Halo; Its First Is Its Last, And Its Last Is Its First. It Encompasses Every Being, Slowly Expanding To Embrace All That Ever Will Be.

One May Not Reach The Dawn Save By Path Of Night.

Let Us Disperse From Our Aloofness And Serve The Weak Who Made Us Strong, And Cleanse The Country In Which We Live. Let Us Teach This Miserable Nation To Smile And Rejoice With Heaven's Bounty And Glory Of Life And Freedom.

What Of The Old Serpent Who Cannot Shed His Skin, And Calls All Others Naked And Shameless?

When You Work You Are A Flute Through Whose Heart The Whispering Of The Hours Turns To Music. Which Of You Would Be A Reed, Dumb And Silent, When All Else Sings Together In Unison?

Thus With My Lips Have I Denounced You, While My Heart, Bleeding Within Me, Called You Tender Names. It Was Love Lashed By Its Own Self That Spoke. It Was Pride Half Slain That Fluttered In The Dust. It Was My Hunger For Your Love That Raged From The Housetop, While My Own Love, Kneeling In Silence, Prayed Your Forgiveness.

Nor Shall Derision Prove Powerful Against Those Who Listen To Humanity Or Those Who Follow In The Footsteps Of Divinity, For They Shall Live Forever. Forever.

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.

A Thief Is A Man In Need. A Liar Is A Man In Fear.

And Is Not Time Even As Love Is, Undivided And Paceless? But If In You Thought You Must Measure Time Into Seasons, Let Each Season Encircle All The Other Seasons, And Let Today Embrace The Past With Remembrance And The Future With Longing.

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.

I Discovered The Secret Of The Sea In Meditation Upon A Dewdrop.

But If In Your Fear You Would Seek Only Love's Peace And Love's Pleasure, Then It Is Better For You That You Cover Your Nakedness And Pass Out Of Love's Threshing-floor, Into The Seasonless World Where You Shall Laugh, But Not All Of Your Laughter, And Weep, But Not All Of Your Tears.

When You Are Sorrowful Look Again In Your Heart, And You Shall See That In Truth You Are Weeping For That Which Has Been Your Delight. Some Of You Say, "joy Is Greater Than Sorrow," And Others Say, "nay, Sorrow Is The Greater." But I Say Unto You, They Are Inseparable. Together They Come, And When One Sits Alone With You At Your Board, Remember That The Other Is Asleep Upon Your Bed. Verily You Are Suspended Like Scales Between Your Sorrow And Your Joy.

Remembrance Is A Form Of Meeting.

Wisdom Stands At The Turn In The Road And Calls Upon Us Publicly, But We Consider It False And Despise Its Adherents.

Beauty Is Life When Life Unveils Her Holy Face.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked.

He Who Loses His Mother Loses A Pure Soul Who Blesses And Guards Him Constantly.

The Philosopher's Soul Dwells In His Head, The Poet's Soul Is In His Heart; The Singer's Soul Lingers About His Throat, But The Soul Of The Dancer Abides In All Her Body.

Remember, One Just Man Causes The Devil Greater Affliction Than A Million Blind Believers.

The Subtlest Beauties In Our Life Are Unseen And Unheard.

He Who Has Not Looked On Sorrow Will Never See Joy. [for Without Sorrow How Would You Know What Joy Is? Contrast Provides Peceptive Clarity]

Art Is A Step From What Is Obvious And Well-known Toward What Is Arcane And Concealed.

Native American

There Must Be Something Strangely Sacred About Salt. It Is In Our Tears And In The Sea.

A Root Is A Flower That Disdains Fame.

The Lust For Comfort, That Stealthy Thing That Enters The House A Guest, And Then Becomes A Host, And Then A Master.

In The Sweetness Of Friendship Let There Be Laughter, And Sharing Of Pleasures. For In The Dew Of Little Things The Heart Finds Its Morning And Is Refreshed.

And You Would Accept The Seasons Of Your Heart Just As You Have Always Accepted That Seasons Pass Over Your Fields And You Would Watch With Serenity Through The Winters Of Your Grief.

The Obvious Is That Which Is Never Seen Until Someone Expresses It Simply.

Solitude Has Soft, Silky Hands, But With Strong Fingers It Grasps The Heart And Makes It Ache With Sorrow.

Your Clothes Conceal Much Of Your Beauty, Yet They Hide Not The Unbeautiful.

Beautiful Clothes

And God Said, Love Your Enemy, & I Obeyed Him & Loved Myself.

Love Your Enemies

When The Earth Shall Claim Your Limbs, Then Shall You Truly Dance.

When You Kill A Beast, Say To Him In Your Heart: ~by The Same Power That Slays You, I Too Am Slain, And I Too Shall Be Consumed. ~for The Law That Delivers You Into My Hand Shall Deliver Me Into A Mightier Hand. ~your Blood And My Blood Is Naught But The Sap That Feeds The Tree Of Heaven.

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.

To Love Life Through Our Labor Is To Be Intimate With Life's Inmost Secrets.

God Has Bestowed Upon You Intelligence And Knowledge. Do Not Extinguish The Lamp Of Divine Grace And Do Not Let The Candle Of Wisdom Die Out In The Darkness Of Lust And Error. For A Wise Man Approaches With His Torch To Light Up The Path Of Mankind.

It Is Not A Garment I Cast Off This Day, But A Skin That I Tear With My Own Hands.

For Life Goes Not Backward, Nor Tarries With Yesterday.

Bows And Arrows

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.

He Who Passes Not His Days In The Realm Of Dreams Is The Slave Of The Days.

We Live Only To Discover Beauty. All Else Is A Form Of Waiting

Beautiful Women

To Belittle, You Have To Be Little.

You Have Your Ideology And I Have Mine.

You May Give Them Your Love, But Not Your Thoughts. For They Have Their Own Thoughts.

Knowledge Cultivates Your Seeds And Does Not Sow In Your Seeds.

Those To Whom Worshiping Is A Window, To Open But Also To Shut, Have Not Yet Visited The House Of Their Souls Whose Windows Are Open From Dawn To Dawn.

Thus With My Lips Have I Denounced You, While My Heart, Bleeding Within Me, Called You Tender Names.

The Most Solid Stone In The Structure Is The Lowest One In The Foundation.

Your House Is Your Larger Body. It Grows In The Sun And Sleeps In The Stillness Of The Night; And It Is Not Dreamless. Does Not Your House Dream, And Dreaming, Leave The City For Grove Or Hilltop?

I Love You When You Bow In Your Mosque, Kneel In Your Temple, Pray In Your Church. For You And I Are Sons Of One Religion, And It Is The Spirit.

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.

Strange That Creatures Without Backbones Have The Hardest Shells.

The Voice Of Life In Me Cannot Reach The Ear Of Life In You; But Let Us Talk That We May Not Feel Lonely.

You See But Your Shadow When You Turn Your Back To The Sun.

People Of Orphalese, Beauty Is Life When Life Unveils Her Holy Face. But You Are Life And You Are The Veil. Beauty Is Eternity Gazing At Itself In A Mirror. But You Are Eternity And You Are The Mirror.

There Are Those Who Give And Know Not Pain In Giving, Nor Do They Seek Joy, Nor Give With Mindfulness Of Virtue; They Give As In Yonder Valley The Myrtle Breathes Its Fragrance Into Space.

If You Cannot But Weep When Your Soul Summons You To Prayer, She Should Spur You Again And Yet Again, Though Weeping, Until You Shall Come Laughing

Art Is A Step In The Known Toward The Unknown

Humanity Looks Upon Jesus The Nazarene As A Poor-born Who Suffered Misery And Humiliation With All Of The Weak. And He Is Pitied, For Humanity Believes He Was Crucified Painfully. . . . And All That Humanity Offers To Him Is Crying And Wailing And Lamentation. For Centuries Humanity Has Been Worshiping Weakness In The Person Of The Savior. The Nazarene Was Not Weak! He Was Strong And Is Strong! But The People Refuse To Heed The True Meaning Of Strength.

Let Me, O Let Me Bathe My Soul In Colours; Let Me Swallow The Sunset And Drink The Rainbow.

Our Pain Carves Out A Larger Space For Love To Fill.

My Brothers, Seek Counsel Of One Another, For Therein Lies The Way Out Of Error And Futile Repentance. The Wisdom Of The Many Is Your Shield Against Tyranny. For When We Turn To One Another For Counsel We Reduce The Number Of Our Enemies.

I Learnt Silence From The Talkative

Some Think I Wink At Them When I Shut My Eyes To Avoid Their Sight.

Would That I Were A Dry Well, And That The People Tossed Stones Into Me, For That Would Be Easier Than To Be A Spring Of Flowing Water That The Thirsty Pass By, And From Which They Avoid Drinking.

My Loneliness Was Born When Men Praised My Talkative Faults And Blamed My Silent Virtues.

We Stood Up And Bade Each Other Farewell, But Love And Despair Stood Between Us Like Two Ghosts, One Stretching His Wings With His Fingers Over Our Throats, One Weeping And The Other Laughing Hideously. As I Took Selma's Hand And Put It To My Lips, She Came Close To Me And Placed A Kiss On My Forehead, Then Dropped On The Wooden Bench. She Shut Her Eyes And Whispered Softly, "oh, Lord God, Have Mercy On Me And Mend My Broken Wings!

If We Were To All Sit In A Circle And Confess Our Sins, We Would Laugh At Each Other For Lack Of Originality.

Are You A Politician Asking What Your Country Can Do For You Or A Zealous One Asking What You Can Do For Your Country? If You Are The First, Then You Are A Parasite; If The Second, Then You Are An Oasis In The Desert.

Humanity Is A River Of Light Running From The Ex-eternity To Eternity.

Most People Who Ask For Advice From Others Have Already Resolved To Act As It Pleases Them.

One Day You Will Ask Me Which Is More Important? My Life Or Yours? I Will Say Mine And You Will Walk Away Not Knowing That You Are My Life.

I Sit Between My Brother The Mountain And My Sister The Sea. We Three Are One In Loneliness, And The Love That Binds Us Together Is Deep And Strong And Strange.

The Silence Of The Envious Is Too Noisy.

Do Not Keep Crying When Your Love Has Been Gone. You Only Need Smile Because He Had Been Given You The Opportunity To Meet Someone Who Is Better.

When You Part From Your Friend, You Grieve Not; For That Which You Love Most In Him May Be Clearer In His Absence, As The Mountain To The Climber Is Clearer From The Plain.

Poetry, My Dear Friends, Is A Sacred Incarnation Of A Smile. Poetry Is A Sigh That Dries The Tears. Poetry Is A Spirit Who Dwells In The Soul, Whose Nourishment Is The Heart, Whose Wine Is Affection. Poetry That Comes Not In This Form Is A False Messiah.

Defeat, My Defeat, My Deathless Courage, You And I Shall Laugh Together With The Storm, And Together We Shall Dig Graves For All That Die In Us, And We Shall Stand In The Sun With A Will, And We Shall Be Dangerous

For Reason, Ruling Alone, Is A Force Confining; And Passion, Unattended, Is A Flame That Burns To Its Own Destruction.

Clock Is Ticking

The Things Which The Child Loves Remain In The Domain Of The Heart Until Old Age. The Most Beautiful Thing In Life Is That Our Souls Remain Hovering Over The Places Where We Once Enjoyed Ourselves. I Am One Of Those Who Remembers Those Places Regardless Of Distance Or Time.

God Made The World With A Heart Full Of Love, Then He Looked Down From Heaven Above, And Saw That We All Need A Helping Hand, Someone To Share With, Who'll Understand. He Made Special People To See Us Through The Glad Times And The Sad Times, Too; A Person On Whom We Can Always Depend, Someone We Can Call A Friend. God Made Friends So We'll Carry A Part Of His Perfect Love In All Our Hearts.

All Things In This Vast Universe Exist In You, With You, And For You.

And Is Not Time Even As Love Is, Undivided And Paceless?

Your Fear Of Death Is But The Trembling Of The Shepherd When He Stands Before The King Whose Hand Is To Be Laid Upon Him In Honour.

Hate Is A Dead Thing. Who Of You Would Be A Tomb?

Your Body Is The Harp Of The Soul.

Yea, Death And Prison We Mete Out To Small Offenders Of The Laws, While Honor, Wealth, And Full Respect On Greater Pirates We Bestow. To Steal A Flower We Call Mean. To Rob A Field Is Chivalry; Who Kills The Body He Must Die, Who Kills The Spirit He Goes Free.

For A Love To Grow Through The Test Of Everyday Living, One Must Respect That Zone Of Privacy Where One Retires To Relate To The Inside Instead Of The Outside.

You Are Good When You Walk To Your Goal Firmly And With Bold Steps. Yet You Are Not Evil When You Go Thither Limping. For Those Who Limp Go Not Backwards. But You Who Are Strong And Swift, See That You Do Not Limp Before The Lame, Deeming It Kindness.

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Robyn Hitchcock

Richard Matheson

Fred F. Fielding

Debbie Macomber

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