The Garden of The Prophet Quotes

“Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.
Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave
and eats a bread it does not harvest.

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

Pity a 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 among its ruins,
and will rebel not save when its neck is laid
between the sword and the block.

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox,
whose philosopher is a juggler,
and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking

Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,
and farewells him with hooting,
only to welcome another with trumpeting again.

Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years
and whose strongmen are yet in the cradle.

Pity the nation divided into fragments,
each fragment deeming itself a nation.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Oftentimes we call Life bitter names, but only when we ourselves are bitter and dark. And we deem her empty and unprofitable, but only when the soul goes wandering in desolate places, and the heart is drunken with overmindfulness of self.

Life is deep and high and distant; and though only your vast vision can reach even her feet, yet she is near; and though only the breath of your breath reaches her heart, the shadow of your shadow crosses her face, and the echo of your faintest cry becomes a spring and an autumn in her breast.

And life is veiled and hidden, even as your greater self is hidden and veiled. Yet when Life speaks, all the winds become words; and when she speaks again, the smiles upon your lips and the tears in your eyes turn also into words. When she sings, the deaf hear and are held; and when she comes walking, the sightless behold her and are amazed and follow her in wonder and astonishment.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Call me not wise unless you call all men wise. A young fruit am I, still clinging to the branch and it was only yesterday that I was a blossom. And call none among you foolish for we are neither wise nor foolish. We are green leaves upon the tree of life and surely life itself if beyond wisdom and surely beyond foolishness.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“The sun teaches to all things that grow their longing for the light. But it is night that raises them to the stars.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Death changes nothing but the masks that cover our faces.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“خلوا بين من يبغي الحكمة يلتمسها في الشقائق الصفراء أو في قبضة من صلصال أحمر”
― جبران خليل جبران, ‫حديقة النبي‬

“هيموا وراء الجمال واتبعوه وان قادكم الى شفا الهاوية.اجلا اتبعوهاوان كان ذا جناح وأنتم لا جناح لكم , ابتعوه وان انتهى بكم الى الهاوية , اتبعوه فان افتقدتم الجمال افتقدتم كل شئ”
― Khalil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Özlemimin yüksekliğini ne bir usturlapla ne de derinliğini bir iskandille ölçtüm. Çünkü aşk, hele sıla hasretiyle de karışmışsa, zamanı ölçüp yoklayacak her aleti tüketir.”
― Khalil Gibran, The garden of the prophet

“كم من لحظات تحمل في طياتها دهوراً من الفراق متباعدة.

على أن الفراق شيء لا وجود له، و ماهو إلا عارض من عوارض الذهن المكدود... وما يدرينا لعلنا لم نفترق”
― جبران خليل جبران, The Garden of The Prophet

“The image of the morning sun in a dewdrop is not less than the sun. The reflection of life in your soul is not less than life.

The dewdrop mirrors the light because it is one with light, and you reflect life because you and life are one.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Derken, müritlerden biri "Yalnızım Üstat," dedi, "saatlerin nalları göğsümü ezip duruyor."

El Mustafa ayağa kalktı ve ortalarında durdu; şiddetli bir rüzgârın sesine benzeyen bir sesle konuştu: "Yalnız! Ne var ki bunda? Yalnız geldin ve yalnız kaybolacaksın sis içinde.

İç öyleyse kadehinden yalnız ve sessizce. Güz günleri başka dudaklara başka kadehler verdi, acı ve tatlı şarap doldurdu kadehlerine, tıpkı senin kadehini doldurduğu gibi.

İç şarabını yalnız, kanının ve gözyaşlarının tadında olsa da; sana susuzluğu bağışladığı için hayata şükret. Çünkü susuzluk olmasa, yüreğin kurumuş bir denizin kıyısı olurdu ancak, şarkıdan ve meddücezirden yoksun.

İç şarabını yalnız, cezbe ve çoşkuyla iç!

Yukarı, başının üstüne kaldır kadehini, sonuna kadar, senin gibi yalnız içenlerin şerefine iç!

Bir gün, insanlarla arkadaşlığı aradım ve onların şölen sofralarına oturdum, yavaş yavaş içtim onlarla; ama şarapları başımı döndürmedi, bağrımı da yakmadı. Sadece ayaklarıma indi. Bilgeliğim susuz, kalbim kilitli ve mühürlü kaldı. Yalnız ayaklarım onların bulanık fikirleriyle arkadaş oldu.

Ve başka insanların arkadaşlığını aradım bir daha, ne de sofralarında onlarla şarap içtim.

Bunun için sana diyorum, saatlerin nalları göğsünü ezip dursa da, ne önemi var! Hüznünün kadehinden yalnız içmen iyidir, neşenin kadehinden de yalnız içeceksin.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Heavy-laden is my soul with her own ripe fruit;
Heavy-laden is my soul with her fruit.
Who now will come and eat and be fulfilled?
My soul is overflowing with her wine.
Who now will pour and drink and be cooled of the desert heat?

Would that I were a tree flowerless and fruitless,
For the pain of abundance is more bitter than barrenness,
And the sorrow of the rich from whom no one will take
Is greater than the grief of the beggar to whom none would give.

Would that I were a well, dry and parched , and men throwing stones into me;
For this were better and easier to be borne than to be a source of living water
When men pass by and will not drink.

Would that I were a reed trodden under foot,
For that were better than to be a lyre of silvery strings
In a house whose lord has no fingers
And whose children are deaf.”
― Kahlil Gibran, The Garden of The Prophet

“Özlemimin yüksekliğini ne bir usturlapla ne de derinliğini bir iskandille ölçtüm, çünkü aşk, hele sıla hasretiyle de karışmışsa zamanı ölçüp yoklayacak her türlü aleti tüketir. Bazı aşklar vardır uzun ayrılık sürelerine denktir. Ama ayrılık zihnin tükenmesinden başka bir şey değildir. Belki de biz hiç ayrılmadık.”
― Halil Cibran, Ermis'in Bahçesi