Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.
Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody.
But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?
Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul. If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.
I would have you consider your judgment and your appetite even as you would two loved guests in your house.
Surely you would not honour one guest above the other; for he who is more mindful of one loses the love and the faith of both.
Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows -- then let your heart say in silence, "God rests in reason."
And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky -- then let your heart say in awe, "God moves in passion."
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.
Mostra la citazione in tedesco
Mostra la citazione in francese
Mostra la citazione in italiano
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Kahlil GibranThe soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
Kahlil GibranVerily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you're empty you're at standstill and balance.
Kahlil Gibranإن قلب المرأة لا يتغير مع الزمن و لا يتحول مع الفصول، قلب المرأة ينازع طويلاً و لكنه لا يموت. قلب المرأة يشابه البرية التي يتخذها الإنسان ساحة لحروبه و مذابحه، فهو يقتلع أشجارها ويحرق أعشابها ويلطخ صخورها بالدماء ويغرس تربتها بالعظام و الجماجم، ولكنها تبقى هادئة ساكنة مطمئنة ويظل فيها الربيع ربيعاً و الخريف خريفاً إلى نهاية الدهور ...
Kahlil GibranIn the depth of my soul there are songs unwilling to take the garb of words, songs living as seed in my heart. They will not flow with ink onto paper. Like a translucent veil, they are wrapped about emotions that can never flow sweetly on my tongue.
Yet how can I even whisper them when I fear what the particles of air may do to them? To whom shall I sing them when they have become accustomed to live in the house of my soul and fear the harshness of other ears?
Were you to look into my eyes, you would see the image of their image. Were you to touch my fingertips, you would feel their quick movements. The works of my hands reveal them as the lake reflects the twinkling of the stars.
My tears disclose them as the mystery of the rose petal is disclosed at the moment the heat dissolves the drops of dew when that rose withers.
… Who can combine the roaring of the sea and the warbling of the nightingale? Who can link the crashing thunder with the baby’s sigh?
Yesterday I stood at the temple door interrogating the passersby about the mystery and merit of Love.
And before me passed an old man with an emaciated and melancholy face, who sighed and said:
"Love is a natural weakness bestowed upon us by the first man."
But a virile youth retorted:
"Love joins our present with the past and the future."
Then a woman with a tragic face sighed and said:
"Love is a deadly poison injected by black vipers, that crawl from the caves of hell. The poison seems fresh as dew and the thirsty soul eagerly drinks it; but after the first intoxication the drinker sickens and dies a slow death."
Then a beautiful, rosy-cheeked damsel smilingly said:
"Love is a wine served by the brides of Dawn which strengthens strong souls and enables them to ascend to the stars."
After her a black-robed, bearded man, frowning, said:
"Love is a divine knowledge that enables men to see as much as the gods."
Then said a blind man, feeling his way with a cane:
"Love is a blinding mist that keeps the soul from discerning the secret of existence, so that the heart sees only trembling phantoms of desire among the hills, and hears only echoes of cries from voiceless valleys."
And a feeble ancient, dragging his feet like two rags, said, in quavering tones:
"Love is the rest of the body in the quiet of the grave, the tranquility of the soul in the depth of Eternity."
And a five-year-old child, after him, said laughing:
"Love is my father and mother, and no one knows Love save my father and mother."
And so, all who passed spoke of Love as the image of their hopes and frustrations, leaving it a mystery as before.
The sorrowful spirit finds relaxation in solitude. It abhors people, as a wounded deer deserts the herd and lives in a cave until it is healed or dead.
Kahlil GibranSi revelas nuestros secretos al viento, no culpes al viento que se lo cuente a los árboles
Kahlil GibranWhen a man kills another man, the people say he is a murderer, but when the Emir kills him, the Emir is just. When a man robs a monastery, they say he is a thief, but when the Emir robs him of his life, the Emir is honourable. When a woman betrays her husband, they say she is an adulteress, but when the Emir makes her walk naked in the streets and stones her later, the Emir is noble. Shedding of blood is forbidden, but who made it lawful for the Emir? Stealing one's money is a crime, but taking away one's life is a noble act. Betrayal of a husband may be an ugly deed, but stoning of living souls is a beautiful sight. Shall we meet evil with evil and say this is the Law? Shall we fight corruption with greater corruption and say this is the Rule? Shall we conquer crimes with more crimes and say this is Justice? Had not the Emir killed an enemy in his past life? Had he not robbed his weak subjects of money and property? Had he not committed adultery? Was he infallible when he killed the murderer and hanged the thief in the tree? Who are those who hanged the thief in the tree? Are they angels descended from heaven, or men looting and usurping? Who cut off the murderer's head? Are they divine prophets, or soldiers shedding blood wherever they go? Who stoned that adulteress? Were they virtuous hermits who came from their monasteries, or humans who loved to commit atrocities with glee, under the protection of ignorant Law? What is Law? Who saw it coming with the sun from the depths of heaven? What human saw the heart of God and found its will or purpose? In what century did the angels walk among the people and preach to them, saying, "Forbid the weak from enjoying life, and kill the outlaws with the sharp edge of the sword, and step upon the sinners with iron feet?
Kahlil GibranTag: justice betrayal stealing crimes murderer
« prima precedente
Pagina 121 di 129.
prossimo ultimo »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.