Kahlil Gibran

My Friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear...The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence...my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my deeds thy own hopes in action.

When thou sayest, "The wind bloweth eastward," I say, "Aye, it doth blow eastward;" for I would not have thee know that my mind doth not dwell upon the wind, but upon the sea...

When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley...

When thou ascendest to thy Heaven, I descend to my Hell,--even then thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my comrade," and I call back to thee, "My comrade, my companion,"--for I would not have you see my Hell...

My friend, thou are not my friend, but how shall I make thee understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand in hand.

Excerpt from "My Friend," by Kahlil Gibran, from The Madman