Quotes About Connection

Love is the highest bliss that man can attain to, for through it alone he truly knows that he is more than himself, and that he is at one with the All.

The traveller in the read-brown clothes that he wears that dust may not show upon him, the girl searching in her bed for the petals fallen from the wreath of her royal lover, the servant or the bride awaiting the master's home-coming in the empty house, are images of the heart turning to God.

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.

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

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.

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.

When a man does not realise his kinship with the world, he lives in a prison-house whose walls are alien to him.

The modern age has brought the geography of the earth near to us, but made it difficult for us to come into touch with man

Unless love is rooted in purposeful activity, its delights are neither fulfilling nor lasting.

Even he whose near ones have all died, one by one, is not alone-companionship comes for him from behind the screen of death.

At the very name of another country, my heart would go out to it, and at the sight of a foreigner in the streets, I would fall to weaving a network of dreams,—the mountains, the glens, and the forests of his distant home, with his cottage in its setting, and the free and independent life of far-away wilds.

In love we find a joy which is ultimate because it is the ultimate truth.

Wherever our heart touches the One, in the small or the big, it finds the touch of the infinite.

a silent cry of the inmost heart for the mother, like the lowing of a calf in the twilight,—this

If you would be busy and fill your pitcher, come, O come to my lake. The water will cling round your feet and babble its secret. The shadow of the coming rain is on the sands, and the clouds hang low upon the blue lines of the trees like the heavy hair above your eyebrows. I know well the rhythm of your steps, they are beating in my heart. Come, O come to my lake, if you must fill your pitcher.

The world speaks to me in pictures, my soul answers in music.

The stone will melt in tears, because I can't remain closed to you forever. I can't escape without being conquered. From the blue sky an eye will gaze down, to summon me in silence. I will receive death utterly at your feet.

The blue of the sky longs for the earth's green; the wind between them sighs, "Alas." Day's pain, muffled by its own glare, burns among stars in the night.

The moment you clasp an infant to your heart, you realize that nobody is born into a caste.

My union with you, my love, was only of the wayside; it was well enough so long as we followed the same road; it will only hamper us if we try to preserve it further. We are now leaving its bonds behind. We are started on our journey beyond, and it will be enough if we can throw each other a glance, or feel the touch of each other's hands in passing. After that? After that there is the larger world-path, the endless current of universal life.

Stand before my eyes, and let thy glance touch my songs into a flame. Stand among thy stars and let me find kindled in their lights my own fir of worship. The earth is waiting at the world's wayside; Stand upon the green mantle she has flung upon thy path; and let me feel in her grass and meadow flowers the spread of my own salutation. Stand in my lonely evening where my heart watches alone; fill her cup of solitude, and let me feel in me the infinity of thy love.

The road is lonely in its crowd for it is not loved.

The raindrop whispered to the jasmine, "Keep me in your heart for ever." The jasmine sighed, "Alas," and dropped to the ground.