A Quote by Khalil Gibran

Poverty is a veil that obscures the face of greatness. An appeal is a mask covering the face of tribulation. — © Khalil Gibran
Poverty is a veil that obscures the face of greatness. An appeal is a mask covering the face of tribulation.
Because the mask is your face, the face is a mask, so I'm thinking of the face as a mask because of the way I see faces is coming from an African vision of the mask which is the thing that we carry around with us, it is our presentation, it's our front, it's our face.
It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was a real mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was but one mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed and changed into itself over and over.
The face of totalitarianism turned out to be a mask - obviously - but the face of Capitalism has no face at all.
My favorite emoji is definitely the sad face, like the 'See, I'm sorry' sad face, which I use all the time... Or the monkey face, where he's covering his eyes.
Economic justice is not just something blacks are crying out for; whites are desperate for it, too. But in the public imagination, the face of poverty is black. In all actuality, the face of poverty is white.
The Manuka honey face mask is another favorite of mine that I actually do. I know there are these people that recommend crazy masks, and I'm like, 'There is no way you're putting that on your face!' But I do put Manuka honey on my face. I take a teaspoon and warm it up.
I only put soap on my face once a day, in the evening, and I'll add in a face mask or exfoliating product ever so often.
A person never knows their own true face. Everybody thinks that the phoney, posed social mask they wear is their real face.
Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!
Not longer loved or fostered by religion, beauty is lifted from its face as a mask, and its absence exposes features on that face which threaten to become incomprehensible to man.
Down through the years my face has been called a sour puss, a dead pan, a frozen face, The Great Stone Face, and, believe it or not, "a tragic mask." On the other hand that kindly critic, the late James Agee, described my face as ranking "almost with Lincoln's as an early American archetype, it was haunting, handsome, almost beautiful." I can't imagine what the great rail splitter's reaction would have been to this, though I sure was pleased.
I hear poets complaining: 'We face what our forebears did not face. We face TV. We face radio. We face this and that.'
If I'm not working and getting my makeup done, that's my chance to do a hair mask and a face mask and my plucking and waxing and all of that.
The discipline of suffering, of great suffering- do you not know that only this discipline has created all enhancements of man so far? That tension of the soul in unhappiness which cultivates its strength, its shudders face to face with great ruin, its inventiveness and courage in enduring, preserving, interpreting, and exploiting suffering, and whatever has been granted to it of profundity, secret, mask, spirit, cunning, greatness- was it not granted to it through suffering, through the discipline of great suffering?
If you've got a mask around your face sometimes you can't help it because you're just touching parts of your face.
A good pump is a silhouette, like the bone structure of the face. It's like a beautiful face with no make-up. You can cover a not-so-beautiful face with make-up, but it is just a mask - it is the same with shoes.
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