I am the infinite sea, and all worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore.

Does the song of the sea end at the shore or in the hearts of those who listen to it?

Cast aside those who liken godliness to whimsy and who try to combine their greed for wealth with their desire for a happy afterlife.

The seasons shall tire and the years grow old, ere they exhaust these words: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.

My Soul gave me good counsel, teaching me that the lamp which I carry does not belong to me, and the song that I sing was not generated from within me.

Power lies in reason, resolution, and truth. No matter how long the tyrant endures, he will be the loser at the end.

Some find Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran’s poetry preachy and moralizing, but I find it plenty enlightening—it’s hard to object to the melodic, cosmic of mysticism of a line like ‘That which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.’