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Khalil Gibran: Collections.


+ " The real test of good manners is to tolerate bad manners pleasantly."

+ "If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind."

+ "No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge."

+ "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."

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

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

+ " The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."

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

+ " 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."

+ "Seven times I have despised my soul: 

The first time when I saw her being meek that she might attain height. 

The second time when I saw her limping before the crippled. 

The third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the easy, and she chose the easy. 

The fourth time when she committed a wrong, and comforted herself that others also commit wrong. 

The fifth time when she forbode for weakness, and attributed her patience to strength. 

The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not that it was one of her own masks. 

And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a virtue."

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

+ "I have seen a face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a single countenance as if held in a mould.  

I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness beneath, and a face whose sheen I had to lift to see how beautiful it was.  

I have seen an old face much lined with nothing, and a smooth face in which all things were graven.  

I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves, and behold the reality beneath."

+ "Remember only that I smiled. I do not atone-nor sacrifice-nor wish for glory; and I have nothing to forgive. I thirsted-and I besought you to give me my blood to drink. For what is there can quench a madman's thirst but his own blood? I was dumb-and I asked wounds of you for mouths. I was imprisoned in your days and nights-and I sought a door into larger days and nights.  

And now I go-as others already crucified have gone. And think not we are weary of crucifixion. For we must be crucified by larger and yet larger men, between greater earths and greater heavens."

+ "Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.  

"Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own winepress.  

"Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.  

"Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.  

"Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.  

"Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggle, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.  

"Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again.  

"Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.  

"Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation."

+ "In this Garden my father and my mother lie, buried by the hands of the living; and in this Garden lie buried the seeds of yesteryear, bought hither upon the wings of the wind. A thousand times shall my mother and my father be buried here, and a thousand times shall the wind bury the seed; and a thousand years hence shall you and I and these flowers come together in this Garden even as now, and we shall be, loving life, and we shall be, dreaming of space, and we shall be, rising towards the sun.

"But now today to be is to be wise, though not a stranger to the foolish; it is to be strong, but not to the undoing of the weak; to play with young children, not as fathers, but rather as playmates who would learn their games;

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