If I were a little younger, a little more naive, a little less weighed down by my worldly wisdom (which isn't much), I would have caught hold of every person I care about and read the aphorisms aloud.
I would have made them taste the beauty and the truth the musings are dipped in. I would have beseech-ed them to open their hearts, to let the powerful words seep into their souls. I would have asked them to read a quote, one at a time, and wonder like a child while summoning all their life's experience. I would have enthused them with my excitement, with my joy, my delight in discovering each new phrase and how truly it reflects my own understanding. That there has been a Khalil Gibran, the writer of this book, such books, that he has been so popular across nations and religions and creeds, that his timeless words still vibrate with the sanctity he once wrote them with in the reader's mind, is a reason enough to be hopeful about this world.
But I resisted, almost. Take away the few Goodreads updates, the Facebook status updates, the one or two random texts and emails, and I almost behaved. It is inappropriate for a well-read, reasonable man to show such enthusiasm for what but aphorisms.
***
A couple of years ago, I'd made my family and relatives sit around in the drawing room while I read and translated a chapter from 'Tuesdays with Morrie'. They did not beat me. My mother remarked the next day that I read to them only from books about death or people that are dying and that they weren't that old yet; so I stopped.
I bought 'The Monk who sold his Ferrari' for my uncle who has spent his entire life at a wholesale shop. But he returned it unread. To the highly judgmental and racist father of a friend who, at least in my opinion, was in Ayan Rand cult, I gave Michael Shermer's 'Why people believe weird things' and Jared Diamond's 'Gun, Germs and Steel'. We are yet to see each other in eyes. My best friend, who is "bored with life", has dumped 'The Power of Now' in a trunk and says he won't mind selling it. It was a birthday present from me.
In the Marketing division of the Headhunting firm I work I am not doing too well.
***
This work is a food for soul. It's delicious, has medicinal benefits and is supposed to be taken in small proportions.
Some random morsels:
"Yestereve I saw philosophers in the market-place, carrying their heads in baskets, and crying aloud, "Wisdom! Wisdom for sale!"
Poor philosophers! They must needs sell their heads to feed their hearts"
"If winter should say, "Spring is in my heart," who would believe winter?"
"The significance of a man is not in what he attains, but in what he longs to attain"
"In vain shall a poet seek the mother of the songs of his heart."
My favorite:
"A woman protested saying, 'Of course it was a righteous war. My son fell in it.'"