Fatima

“ما اجهل الناس الذين يتوهّمون ان المحبة تتولد بالمعاشرة الطويلة والمرافقة المستمرة.
ان المحبة الحقيقية هي ابنة التفاهم الروحي وان لم يتم هذا التفاهم الروحي بلحظة واحدة لا يتم بعام ولا بجيل كامل”
― جبران خليل جبران, The Broken Wings

“Your children are not your children.
They are sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For thir souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the make upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness.
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He also loves the bow that is stable.”
― Kahlil Gibran

“عندما تصل إلى جوهر الحياة ستحس الجمالفي كل شئ , حتى في العيون حتى في العيون التي عميت عن رؤية الجمال”
― جبران خليل جبران, الأجنحة المتكسرة

“Oh it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh. The trombones crunched redgold under my bed, and behind my gulliver the trumpets three-wise silverflamed, and there by the door the timps rolling through my guts and out again crunched like candy thunder. Oh, it was wonder of wonders. And then, a bird of like rarest spun heavenmetal, or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now, came the violin solo above all the other strings, and those strings were like a cage of silk round my bed. Then flute and oboe bored, like worms of like platinum, into the thick thick toffee gold and silver. I was in such bliss, my brothers.”
― Anthony Burgess, A Clockwork Orange