Quotes from Rabindranath Tagore

Tears came to my eyes. I forgot that he was a poor Cabuli fruit-seller, while I was—. But no, what was I more than he? He also was a father.

The soil in return for her service keeps the tree tied to her; the sky asks nothing and leaves it free.

Let my love, like sunlight, surround you and yet give you illumined freedom.

Spring scatters the petals of flowers that are not for the fruits of the future, but for the moment's whim.

the Creator will find it difficult to recognize it as a thing of spirit and a creature made in His own divine image.

her thrones were not her concern.

Want of love is a degree of callousness; for love is the perfection of consciousness. We do not love because we do not comprehend, or rather we do not comprehend because we do not love. For love is the ultimate meaning of everything around us. It is not a mere sentiment; it is truth; it is the joy that is at the root of all creation.

What divine drink wouldst thou have, my God, from this overflowing cup of my life? My poet, is it thy delight to see thy creation through my eyes and to stand at the portals of my ears silently to listen to thine own eternal harmony? Thy world is weaving words in my mind and thy joy is adding music to them. Thou givest thyself to me in love and then feelest thine own entire sweetness in me.

Man cannot reach the shrine if he does not make the pilgrimage. Languages are jealous. They do not give up their best treasures to those who try to deal with them through an intermediary belonging to an alien rival.

Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves, these idle clouds sailing across the sky, this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead. The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart. Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.

I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand lest a least hole should be left in this name; and for all the care I take I lose sight of my true being.

Let all the strains of joy mingle in my last song---the joy that makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.

no one should add to the burden of the world, but that each should try to lighten it.

Kabîr says: "If you merge your life in the Ocean of Life, you will find your life in the Supreme Land of Bliss.

The truth is that the spirit of conflict and conquest is at the origin and in the centre of Western nationalism; its basis is not social co-operation.

Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes: thus begins the record of our hearts.

Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath. It is unholy—take not thy gifts through its unclean hands. Accept only what is offered by sacred love.

But the beauty which Paresh Babu saw in her face was not that of complexion or features, but of the soul which there found its expression,—not just the pleasantness of a faultless shape but the firmness of strength, the brightness of independence,—characteristics which attract a chosen few, but repel most others.

When a man sleeps he is shut up within the narrow activities of his physical life. He lives, but he knows not the varied relations of his life to his surroundings, - therefore he knows not himself.

My useless life can only break out in tunes without a purpose. (#15)

When material is in profusion, the mind gets lazy and leaves everything to it, forgetting that for a successful feast of joy its internal equipment counts for more than the external. This is the chief lesson which his infant state has to teach to man. There his possessions are few and trivial, yet he needs no more for his happiness. The world of play is spoilt for the unfortunate youngster who is burdened with an unlimited quantity of playthings.

You came down from your throne and stood at my cottage door. I was singing all alone in a corner, and the melody caught your ear. You came down and stood at my cottage door. Masters are many in your hall, and songs are sung there at all hours. But the simple carol of this novice struck at your love. One plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the world, and with a flower for a prize you came down and stopped at my cottage door.

God never under any conditions binds His creation with fetters; He awakens it through constant changes to ever new life.

Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.