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The Prophet: On Houses

On Houses
Then a mason came forth and said, "Speak to us of Houses."
And he answered and said:
Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a house within the city walls.
For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your house is your larger body.
It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream? And dreaming, leave the city for grove or hilltop?
Would that I could gather your houses into my hand, and like a sower scatter them in forest and meadow.
Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek one another through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.
But these things are not yet to be.
In their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields.
And tell me, people of Orphalese, what have you in these houses? And what is it you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power?
Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?
Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?
Tell me, have you these in your houses?
Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and becomes a host, and then a master?
Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.
Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.
It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.
It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.
Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.
But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast.
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye.
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not against a ceiling, nor fear to breathe lest walls should crack and fall down.
You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.
And though of magnificence and splendour, your house shall not hold your secret nor shelter your longing.
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the songs and the silences of night.

 

The Prophet le prije ctuca / le pijyctu (the wise teacher)
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The Prophet: On Marriage lo nu speni
The Prophet: On Children lo panzi
The Prophet: On Giving lo nu dunda
The Prophet: On Eating and Drinking lo nu citka je pinxe
The Prophet: On Work lo zu'o gunka
The Prophet: On Joy and Sorrow lo li'i gleki je badri
The Prophet: On Houses lo zdani
The Prophet: On Clothes lo taxfu
The Prophet: On Buying and Selling lo nu tevecnu je vecnu
The Prophet: On Crime and Punishment lo zekri .e lo nu sfasa
The Prophet: On Laws lo flalu
The Prophet: On Freedom lo za'i zifre
The Prophet: On Reason and Passion lo nu krinu pensi .e lo se cinmo
The Prophet: On Pain lo nu dunku
The Prophet: On Self-Knowledge lo nu sevzi djuno
The Prophet: On Teaching lo nu ctuca
The Prophet: On Friendship lo nu pendo
The Prophet: On Talking lo nu tavla
The Prophet: On Time lo temci
The Prophet: On Good and Evil lo ka vrude .e lo ka pacna
The Prophet: On Prayer lo nu jdaselsku
The Prophet: On Pleasure lo za'i pluka
The Prophet: On Beauty lo ka melbi
The Prophet: On Religion lo lijde
The Prophet: On Death lo nu morsi
The Prophet: The Farewell le nu cusku zo co'o

Created by Eppcott. Last Modification: Friday 13 of January, 2006 19:18:10 GMT by Eppcott.