Poet Khalil Gibran Quotes

Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires poets, the same moon which angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?

..i spill into the kind of silence only Khalil Gibran would understand.

Haven't we heard that obvious beauty is the cause of many hidden distresses and deep suffering? Is not the beautiful moon, that inspires the poets, the same moon that angers the silence of the sea with a terrible roar?

Lebanese poet Khalil Gibran says: “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; and could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy.

Work is love made visible. And what is it to work with love?” the poet Khalil Gibran wrote. In the hospital, working with love sometimes requires putting people in danger.

I am a stranger to myself, and when I hear my tongue speak, my ears wonder over my voice; I see my inner self smiling, crying, braving, and fearing; and my existence wonders over my substance while my soul interrogates my heart; but I remain unknown, engulfed by tremendous silence. My thoughts are strangers to my body, and as I stand before the mirror, I see something in my face which my soul does not see, and I find in my eyes what my inner self does not find.

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

The poets and writers are trying to understand the reality of woman, but up to this day they have not understood the hidden secrets of her heart, because they look upon her from behind the sexual veil and see nothing but externals; they look upon her through the magnifying glass of hatefulness and find nothing except weakness and submission

One autumn day when nature seemed filled with sadness she sat by a spring, freed from its earthly prison like thoughts from the imagination of a poet, looking at the fluttering of yellowed leaves as they fell from the trees. She watched the wind playing with them as Death plays with the souls of men. She gazed on the flowers and saw that they were withered and their hearts dried up and broken into little pieces. They were storing their seeds in the earth as women their trinkets and jewelry during times of war and disturbance.

You are the bows from which your children As living arrows are sent forth. —KHALIL GIBRAN, Lebanese-American poet

The poets and writers are trying to understand the reality of woman, but up to this day they have not understood the hidden secrets of her heart, because they look upon her from behind the sexual veil and see nothing but externals; they look upon her through the magnifying glass of hatefulness and find nothing except weakness and submission.

There lies a green field between the scholad and the poet; should the scholar cross it he becomes a wise man; should the poet cross it, he becomes a prophet.