The Prophet (Deluxe Hardbound Edition)

by Kahlil Gibran

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

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.

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

And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.

You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link. This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link.