“Many of us spend our whole lives running from feeling with the mistaken belief that you can not bear the pain. But you have already borne the pain. What you have not done is feel all you are beyond that pain.”

Kahlil Gibran

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“Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?”


“And a woman spoke, saying, "Tell us of Pain." And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.”


“Who can depart from his pain, and his aloneness without regret??”


“Much of your pain is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.”


“And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.”


“When love beckons to you, follow him,Though his ways are hard and steep.And When his wings enfold you yield to him,Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.And When he speaks to you believe in him,Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden...But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out oflove’s threshing-floor,Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears...But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.To know the pain of too much tenderness.To be wounded by your own understanding of love;And to bleed willingly and joyfully.”