Quotes About Reflection

On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time. But it is never lost, my lord. Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands. Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness. I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed and imagined all work had ceased. In the morning I woke up and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.

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

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.

Life's memories are not life's history, but the original work of an unseen artist

Here is thy footstool and there rest thy feet where live the poorest, and lowliest, and lost. When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance cannot reach down to the depth where thy feet rest among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost. Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the clothes of the humble among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost. My heart can never find its way to where thou keepest company with the companionless among the poorest, the lowliest, and the lost.

The traveller has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end. My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said, "Here art thou!" The question and the cry, "Oh, where?" melt into tears of a thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance, "I am!" XIII

Perhaps the scenes of travel conjure themselves up before me and pass and repass in my imagination all the more vividly, because I lead such a vegetable existence that a call to travel would fall upon me like a thunder-bolt.

SORROW is hushed into peace in my heart like the evening among the silent trees.

When death comes and whispers to me 'Thy days are ended.' let me say to him, 'I have lived in love and not in mere time.' He will ask 'Will thy songs remain?' I shall say 'I know not, but this I know that often when I sang I found my eternity.

The food which I get by begging is divine." After I had thought over what she said, I understood her meaning. When we get our food precariously as alms, we remember God the giver. But when we receive our food regularly at home, as a matter of course, we are apt to regard it as ours by right.

Consciously or unconsciously, I may have done many things that were un-true, but I have never uttered anything false in my poetry ? that is the sanctuary where the deepest truths of my life find refuge.

the testing of truth has not been carried out once and for all by a group of learned men in some past age; truth has to be discovered anew through the blows and opposition it encounters from the people of every age.

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.

Un día hallaré la Vida en mi interior, el gozo que se esconde en mi vida, aunque los días confunden mi camino con el polvo de la ociosidad. He conocido sus fugaces resplandores y me han llegado rachas de su aliento que han puesto fragantes mis ideas por un instante. Un día encontraré fuera de mí ese gozo que me oculta la pantalla de la luz; y me alzaré en esa soledad desbordada donde todo se observa como lo ve el creador.

Thou hast led me through my crowded travels of the day to my evening's loneliness. I wait for its meaning through the stillness of the night.

Though I have a sense of achievement while I am in your company, I have nothing to cling to when I move away.

The past has been God's gift to you; about the present, you must make your own choice.

For once be careless, timid traveller, and utterly lose your way; wide-awake though you are, be like broad daylight enticed by and netted in mist. Do not shun the garden of Lost Hearts waiting at the end of the wrong road, where the grass is strewn with wrecked red flowers, and disconsolate water heaves in the troubled sea. Long have you watched over the store gathered by weary years. Let it be stripped, with nothing remaining but the desolate triumph of losing all.

Lo que eres no lo ves, y lo que ves es tu sombra

One sad voice has its nest among the ruins of the years. It sings to me in the night,--"I loved you.

Sit still my heart, do not raise your dust. Let the world find its way to you.

The dust of the dead words clings to thee. Wash thy soul with silence.

Mitte üksnes poeesias, vaid ka üldse kogu kunstis peab kunstniku meel saavutama teatud eemalehoidmisastme - ainujuhtimine tuleb anda loojale inimese sees. Kui ainestik saab loomingust võitu on tagajärjeks sündmuse pelk koopia, mitte aga selle peegeldamine läbi kunstniku meele.