按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
only once have i been made mute。 it was when a man asked me； 〃who are you？〃
the first thought of god was an angel。
the first word of god was a man。
we were fluttering； wandering； longing creatures a thousand thousand years before the sea and the wind in the forest gave us words。
now how can we express the ancient of days in us with only the sounds of our yesterdays？
the sphinx spoke only once； and the sphinx said； 〃a grain of sand is a desert； and a desert is a grain of sand； and now let us all be silent again。〃
i heard the sphinx； but i did not understand。
long did i lie in the dust of egypt； silent and unaware of the seasons。
then the sun gave me birth； and i rose and walked upon the banks of the nile；
singing with the days and dreaming with the nights。
and now the sun threads upon me with a thousand feet that i may lie again in the dust of egypt。
but behold a marvel and a riddle！
the very sun that gathered me cannot scatter me。
still erect am i； and sure of foot do i walk upon the banks of the nile。
remembrance is a form of meeting。
forgetfulness is a form of freedom。
we measure time according to the movement of countless suns； and they measure time by little machines in their little pockets。
now tell me； how could we ever meet at the same place and the same time？
space is not space between the earth and the sun to one who looks down from the windows of the milky way。
humanity is a river of light running from the ex…eternity to eternity。
do not the spirits who dwell in the ether envy man his pain？
on my way to the holy city i met another pilgrim and i asked him； 〃is this indeed the way to the holy city？〃
and he said； 〃follow me； and you will reach the holy city in a day and a night。〃
and i followed him。 and we walked many days and many nights； yet we did not reach the holy city。
and what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had misled me。
make me； oh god； the prey of the lion； ere you make the rabbit my prey。
one may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night。
my house says to me； 〃do not leave me； for here dwells your past。〃
and the road says to me； 〃e and follow me； for i am your future。〃
and i say to both my house and the road； 〃i have no past； nor have i a future。 if i stay here； there is a going in my staying； and if i go there is a staying in my going。 only love and death will change all things。〃
how can i lose faith in the justice of life； when the dreams of those who sleep upon feathers are not more beautiful than the dreams of those who sleep upon the earth？ strange； the desire for certain pleasures is a part of my pain。
seven times have i despised my soul：
the first time when i saw her being meek that she might attain height。
the second time when i saw her limping before the crippled。
the third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the easy； and she chose the easy。
the fourth time when she mitted a wrong； and forted herself that others also mit wrong。
the fifth time when she forbore for weakness； and attributed her patience to strength。
the sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face； and knew not that it was one of her own masks。
and the seventh time when she sang a song of praise； and deemed it a virtue。
i am ignorant of absolute truth。 but i am humble before my ignorance and therein lies my honour and my reward。
there is a space between mans imagination and mans attainment that may only be traversed by his longing。
paradise is there； behind that door； in the next room； but i have lost the key。
perhaps i have only mislaid it。
you are blind and i am deaf and dumb； so let us touch hands and understand。
the significance of man is not in what he attains； but rather in what he longs to attain。
some of us are like ink and some like paper。
and if it were not for the blackness of some of us； some of us would be dumb；
and if it were not for the whiteness of some of us； some of us would be blind。
give me an ear and i will give you a voice。
our mind is a sponge； our heart is a stream。
is it not strange that most of us choose sucking rather than running？
when you long for blessings that you may not name； and when you grieve knowing not the cause； then indeed you are growing with all things that grow； and rising toward your greater self。
when one is drunk with a vision； he deems his faint expression of it the very wine。
you drink wine that you may be intoxicated； and i drink that it may sober me from that other wine。
when my cup is empty i resign myself to its emptiness； but when it is half full i resent its half…fullness。
the reality of the other person is not in what he reveals to you； but in what he cannot reveal to you。
therefore； if you would understand him； listen not to what he says but rather to what he does not say。
half of what i say is meaningless； but i say it so that the other half may reach you。
a sense of humour is a sense of proportion。
my loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and blamed my silent virtues。
when life does not find a singer to sing her heart she produces a philosopher to speak her mind。
a truth is to be known always； to be uttered sometimes。
the real in us is silent； the acquired is talkative。
the voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you； but let us talk that we may not feel lonely。
when two women talk they say nothing； when one woman speaks she reveals all of life。
frogs may bellow louder than bulls； but they cannot drag the plough in the field not turn the wheel of the winepress； and of their skins you cannot make shoes。
only the dumb envy the talkative。
if winter should say； 〃spring is in my heart；〃 who would believe winter？
every seed is a longing。
should you really open your eyes and see； you would behold your image in all images。
and should you open your ears and listen； you would hear your own voice in all voices。
it takes two of us to discover truth： one to utter it and one to understand it。
though the wave of words is forever upon us； yet our depth is forever silent。
many a doctrine is like a window pane。 we see truth through it but it divides us from truth。
now let us play hide and seek。 should you hide in my heart it would not be difficult to find you。 but should you hide behind your own shell； then it would be useless for anyone to seek you。 a woman may veil her face with a smile。
how noble is the sad heart who would sing a joyous song with joyous hearts。
he who would understand a woman； or dissect genius； or solve the mystery of silence is the very man who would wake from a beautiful dream to sit at a breakfast table。
i would walk with all those who walk。 i would not stand still to watch the procession passing by。
you owe more than gold to him who serves you。 give him of your heart or serve him。
nay； we have not lived in vain。 have they not built towers of our bones？
let us not be particular and sectional。 the poets mind and the scorpions tail rise in glory from the same earth。
every dragon gives birth to a st。 george who slays it。
trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky。 we fell them down and turn them into paper that we may record our emptiness。
should you care to write （and only the saints know why you should） you must needs have knowledge and art and music the knowledge of the music of words； the art of being artless； and the magic of loving your readers。
they dip their pens in our hearts and think they are inspired。
should a tree write its autobiography it would not be unlike the history of a race。
if i were to choose between the power of writing a poem and the ecstasy of a poem unwritten； i would choose the ecstasy。 it is better poetry。
but you and all my neighbours agree that i always choose badly。
poetry is not an opinion expressed。 it is a song that rises from a bleeding wound or a smiling mouth。
words are timeless。 you should utter them or write them with a knowledge of their timelessness。
a poet is a dethroned king sitting among the ashes of his palace trying to fashion an image out of the ashes。
poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder； with a dash of the dictionary。
in vain shall a poet seek the mother of the songs of his heart。
once i said to a poet； 〃we shall not know your worth until you die。〃
and he answered saying； 〃yes； death is always the revealer。 and if indeed you would know my worth it is that i have more in my heart than upon my tongue； and more in my desire than in my hand。〃
if you sing of beauty though alone in the heart of the desert you will have an audience。
poetry is wisdom that enchants the heart。
wisdom is poetry that sings in the mind。
if we could enchant mans heart and at the same time sing in his mind；
then in truth he would live in the shadow of god。
inspiration will always sing； inspiration will never explain。
we often sing lullabies to our children that we ourselves may sleep。
all our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind。
thinking is always the stumbling stone to poetry。
a great singer is he who sings our silences。
how can y