Excerpt from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

One hundred and forty fourth printing, Sept 2007

Excerpt from on houses: p32-33

Or have you only comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then 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 the thistledown like frail vessels.

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

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