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    The Little Book of Life's Wisdom

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      But the restless say, “We have heard her

      shouting among the mountains. And with her

      cries came the sound of hoofs and the beating

      of wings and the roaring of lions.”

      B E AU T Y A N D T H E S O N G O F L I F E

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      At night the watchers of the city say, “Beauty

      shall rise with the dawn from the east.”

      And at noontide the toilers and the wayfar-

      ers say, “We have seen her leaning over the earth

      from the windows of the sunset.”

      In winter say the snowbound, “She shall

      come with the spring, leaping upon the hills.”

      And in the summer heat the reapers say, “We

      have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves,

      and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.”

      All these things have you said of beauty,

      yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs

      unsatisfied.

      And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.

      It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand

      stretched forth,

      but rather a heart inflamed and a soul

      enchanted.

      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.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      It is not the sap within the furrowed bark,

      nor a wing attached to a claw,

      but rather a garden forever in bloom

      and a flock of angels forever in flight.

      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.

      B E AU T Y A N D T H E S O N G O F L I F E

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      SOUL OF THE DANCER

      Once there came to the court of the prince of

      Bkerkasha a dancer with her musicians. She was

      admitted to the court, and she danced before the

      prince to the music of the lute and the flute and

      the zither.

      She danced the dance of flames and the

      dance of swords and spears. She danced the

      dance of stars and the dance of space. And then

      she danced the dance of flowers in the wind.

      After this, she stood before the throne of the

      prince and bowed her body before him.

      And the prince bade her to come nearer, and

      he said unto her, “Beautiful woman, daughter of

      grace and delight, whence comes your art? And

      how is it that you command all the elements in

      your rhythms and your rhymes?”

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      And the dancer bowed again before the

      prince and she answered, “Mighty and gracious

      Majesty, I know not the answer to your question-

      ings. Only this I know: The philosopher’s soul

      dwells in the head, the poet’s soul is in the heart,

      the singer’s soul lingers about the throat, but the

      soul of the dancer abides in all of her body.”

      B E AU T Y A N D T H E S O N G O F L I F E

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      AN HOUR DEVOTED TO

      BEAUTY AND LOVE

      One hour devoted to the pursuit of beauty and

      love is worth a full century of glory given by the

      frightened weak to the strong.

      From that hour comes humanity’s truth. And

      during that century truth sleeps between the

      restless arms of disturbing dreams.

      In that hour the soul sees for herself the

      natural law, and for that century she imprisons

      herself behind the laws of humanity, and she is

      shackled with irons of oppression.

      That hour was the inspiration for the Songs

      of Solomon, and that century was the blind

      power that destroyed the temple of Baalbek.

      That hour was the birth of the Sermon on the

      Mount, and that century wrecked the castles of

      Palmyra and the Tower of Babylon.

      That hour was the Hejira of Muhammad, and

      that century forgot Allah, Golgotha, and Sinai.

      One hour devoted to mourning and lament-

      ing the stolen equality of the weak is nobler than

      a century filled with greed and usurpation.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      It is at that hour that the heart is purified

      by flaming sorrow and illuminated by the torch

      of love.

      And in that century that desires for truth are

      buried in the bosom of the earth.

      That hour is the root that must flourish.

      That hour is the hour of contemplation,

      the hour of prayer, and the hour of a new era

      of good.

      And that century is a life of Nero spent on

      self-investment taken solely from earthly sub-

      stance.

      This is life—portrayed on the stage for ages,

      recorded on earth for centuries, lived in strange-

      ness for years, sung as a hymn for days, exalted

      for but an hour—but the hour is treasured by

      eternity as a jewel.

      B E AU T Y A N D T H E S O N G O F L I F E

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      3

      Life’s Human

      Journey

      Daily life provides the opportunity to

      learn about the many ways that the

      Greater Life expresses itself through us.

      The journey of human life presents its

      own unique twists and turns.

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      YOUR DAILY LIFE IS YOUR TEMPLE

      Your daily life is your temple and your religion.

      Whenever you enter into it, take with you

      your all.

      Take the plough and the forge and the mallet

      and the lute—

      the things you have fashioned in necessity or

      for delight.

      For in reverie you cannot rise above your

      achievements

      nor fall lower than your failures.

      And take with you all people:

      for in adoration you cannot fly higher than

      their hopes

      nor humble yourself lower than their despair.

      And if you would know God,

      be not therefore a solver of riddles.

      Rather look about you and you shall see God

      playing with your children.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      And look into space—

      you shall see God walking in the cloud,

    &nb
    sp; arms outstretched in the lightning,

      then descending in the rain.

      You shall see God smiling in the flowers,

      then rising and waving hands in the trees.

      L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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      BURYING DEAD SELVES

      Once, as I was burying one of my dead selves,

      the grave digger came by and said to me, “Of all

      those who come here to bury, you alone I like.”

      Said I, “You please me exceedingly, but why

      do you like me?”

      “Because,” said he, “The others come weep-

      ing and go weeping—you only come laughing

      and go laughing.”

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      GIVING UP A KINGDOM

      They told me that in a forest among the moun-

      tains lived a young man in solitude who once

      was a king of a vast country beyond the Two

      Rivers3. And they also said that he, of his own

      will, had left his throne and the land of his glory

      and come to dwell in the wilderness.

      And I said, “I would seek that man, and learn

      the secret of his heart. For he who renounces a

      kingdom must needs be greater than a kingdom.”

      On that very day, I went to the forest where

      he dwelt. And I found him sitting under a white

      cypress, and in his hand he held a reed as if

      it were a scepter. And I greeted him even as I

      would greet a king. And he turned to me and

      said gently, “What would you in this forest of

      serenity? Seek you a lost self in the green shad-

      ows, or is it a homecoming in your twilight?”

      And I answered, “I seek only you—for I fain

      would know what made you leave a kingdom

      for a forest.”

      3. Tigris and Euphrates.

      L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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      And he said, “Brief is my story, for sudden

      was the bursting of the bubble. It happened

      thus: One day as I sat at a window in my palace,

      my chamberlain and an envoy from a foreign

      land were walking in my garden. And as they

      approached my window, the lord chamberlain

      was speaking of himself and saying, ‘I am like

      the king. I have a thirst for strong wine and a

      hunger for all games of chance. And like my lord

      the king, I have storms of temper.’ And the lord

      chamberlain and the envoy disappeared among

      the trees. But in a few minutes they returned,

      and this time the lord chamberlain was speaking

      of me, and he was saying, ‘My lord the king is

      like myself—a good marksman—and like me he

      loves music and bathes thrice a day.’”

      After a moment he added, “On the eve of that

      day, I left my palace with but my garment, for I

      would no longer be ruler over those who assume

      my vices and attribute to me their virtues.”

      And I said, “This is indeed a wonder, and

      passing strange.”

      And he said, “Nay, my friend, you knocked at

      the gate of my silences and received but a trifle.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      For who would not leave a kingdom for a forest,

      where the seasons sing and dance ceaselessly?

      Many are those who have given their kingdom

      for less than solitude and the sweet fellowship of

      aloneness. Countless are the eagles who descend

      from the upper air to live with moles that they

      may know the secrets of the earth.

      “There are those who renounce the kingdom

      of dreams that they may not seem distant from

      the dreamless. And those who renounce the

      kingdom of nakedness and cover their souls that

      others may not be ashamed in beholding truth

      uncovered and beauty unveiled.

      “And greater yet than all of these are those

      who renounce the kingdom of sorrow that they

      may not seem proud and vainglorious.”

      Then rising, he leaned upon his reed and

      said, “Go now to the great city and sit at its gate

      and watch all those who enter into it and those

      who go out. And see that you find him who,

      though born a king, is without kingdom. And

      him who, though ruled in flesh, rules in spirit—

      though neither he nor his subjects know this.

      L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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      And him also who but seems to rule yet is in

      truth slave of his own slaves.”

      After he had said these things, he smiled on

      me, and there were a thousand dawns upon his

      lips. Then he turned and walked away into the

      heart of the forest.

      And I returned to the city, and I sat at its gate

      to watch the passersby, even as he had told me.

      And from that day to this, numberless are

      the kings whose shadows have passed over me,

      and few are the subjects over whom my shadow

      passed.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      POSSESSIONS

      What are your possessions

      but things you keep and guard

      for fear you may need them tomorrow?

      And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring

      to the over-prudent dog

      burying bones in the trackless sand

      as it follows the pilgrims to the holy city?

      And what is fear of need but need itself?

      Is not dread of thirst when your well is full,

      a thirst that is unquenchable?

      L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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      TREASURE

      Dig anywhere in the earth

      and you will find a treasure,

      only you must dig

      with the faith of a peasant.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      THE VALUE OF TIME

      They deem me mad because

      I will not sell my days for gold.

      And I deem them mad because

      they think my days have a price.

      They spread before us their riches

      of gold and silver, of ivory and ebony,

      and we spread before them

      our hearts and our spirits.

      And yet they deem

      themselves the hosts

      and us the guests.

      L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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      WITH SENSES CONTINUALLY

      MADE NEW

      A philosopher describes Jesus:

      When he was with us, he gazed at us and at

      our world with eyes of wonder, for his eyes
    were

      not veiled with the veil of years, and all that he

      saw was clear in the light of his youth.

      Though he knew the depth of beauty, he was

      forever surprised by its peace and its majesty.

      And he stood before the earth as the first man

      had stood before the first day.

      We whose senses have been dulled, we gaze

      in full daylight and yet we do not see. We would

      cup our ears, but we do not hear, and stretch

      forth our hands, but we do not touch. And

      though all the incense of Arabia is burned, we

      go our way and do not smell.

      We see not the ploughman returning from his

      field at eventide, nor hear the shepherd’s flute

      when he leads his flock to the fold. Nor do we

      stretch our arms to touch the sunset, and our

      nostrils hunger no longer for the roses of Sharon.

      K A H L I L G I B R A N ’ S L I T T L E B O O K O F L I F E

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      Nay, we honor no kings without kingdoms,

      nor hear the sound of harps save when the

      strings are plucked by hands. Nor do we see a

      child playing in our olive grove as if he were a

      young olive tree. And all words must needs rise

      from lips of flesh, or else we deem each other

      dumb and deaf.

      In truth we gaze but do not see, and hear-

      ken but do not hear. We eat and drink but do

      not taste.

      And there lies the difference between Jesus

      of Nazareth and ourselves.

      His senses were all continually made new,

      and the world to him was always a new world.

      To him the lisping of a babe was not less

      than the cry of all humanity, while to us it is

      only lisping.

      To him the root of a buttercup was a longing

      towards God, while to us it is naught but a root.

      L I F E ’ S H U M A N J O U R N E Y

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      WORK IS LOVE

      You work that you may keep pace with the earth

      and the soul of the earth.

      For to be idle is to become a stranger unto

      the seasons and to step out of life’s procession,

      which marches in majesty and proud submission

      towards the infinite.

      When you work, you are a flute through

      whose heart the whispering of the hours turns

      to music.

      When you work, you fulfill a part of earth’s

     

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