And a youth said, Speak to us of Friendship.
And he answered, saying:
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the “nay” in your own mind, nor do you withhold the “ay.”
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.
My eyes become full of tears when I see that Kahlil Gibran is only sometimes a vehicle of godliness, of truth – but not always.
I would have loved him to be always on the sunlit peaks of consciousness, but he goes on down into the valleys, which are dark. Although his articulateness remains the same, and his poetry carries the same beauty, the truth is lost. He is so articulate, that unless you know the truth you will not be able to make any distinction where he falls down and where he rises to the highest peaks.
His Zorba and his buddha are not together; they are not yet an organic unity. So when Zorba speaks, of course the language is the same as that of buddha, but the meaning is not of buddha. It seems he has a split personality and I feel tears for him, that a man of such great genius could not manage to become one, he remained two – just as every ordinary man is.
Kahlil Gibran is not enlightened; hence he cannot see the bird’s-eye view of the whole. But because he has great intelligence he manages, whenever he is falling down, to make his words hide his fall. I love the man, because it is very rare to find such a man, but I feel sorry for him too because he could not become integrated, crystallized. You will not be able to find out when he is flying high like an eagle and when he is just walking on the earth amongst you; you will not be able to recognize him. That’s very unfortunate.