Rabindranath Tagore, fully Sir Rabindranath Tagore, sobriquet Gurudev, aka Kabi Guru Rabindranath Thakur or Biswa Kabi

Rabindranath
Tagore, fully Sir Rabindranath Tagore, sobriquet Gurudev, aka Kabi Guru Rabindranath Thakur or Biswa Kabi
1861
1941

Bengalese Mystical Poet, Essayist, Song Composer, Painter, Polymath, Founder Shantaniketan University, awarded Nobel Prize in Literature

Author Quotes

Unending Love - I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times... In life after life, in age after age, forever. My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs, That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms, In life after life, in age after age, forever. Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it's age old pain, It's ancient tale of being apart or together. As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge, Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time. You become an image of what is remembered forever. You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount. At the heart of time, love of one for another. We have played along side millions of lovers, Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting, the distressful tears of farewell, Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever. Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you The love of all man's days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life. The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours - And the songs of every poet past and forever.

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.

We [poets] set men free from their desires.

We are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I. The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the waves are raving at sea. We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out, my bride and I. We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from behind. My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings to my breast. Long have I served her tenderly. I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut out the rude light from her eyes. I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears till she half swooned in languor. She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness. She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her. To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild. My bride has shivered and stood up, she has clasped my hand and come out. Her hair is flying in the wind, her veil is fluttering, her garland rustles over her breast. The push of death has swung her into life. We are face to face and heart to heart, my bride and I.

We at once feel that cruelty to him is cruelty to ourselves, to make him small is stealing from our own humanity...

We believe that mere movement is life, and that the more velocity it has, the more it expresses vitality.

We can look upon a road from two different points of view. One regards it as dividing us from the object of desire; in that case we count every step of our journey over it as something attained by force in the face of obstruction. The other sees it as the road which leads us to our destination; and as such is part of our goal. It is already the beginning of our attainment, and by journeying over it we can only gain that which in itself it offers to us.

Truth cannot afford to be tolerant where it faces positive evil.

Perhaps the crescent moon smiles in doubt at being told that it is a fragment awaiting perfection.

So our daily worship of God is not really the process of gradual acquisition of him, but the daily process of surrendering ourselves, removing all obstacles to union and extending our consciousness of him in devotion and service, in goodness and in l

The burden of the self is lightened with I laugh at myself.

The fundamental desire of life is the desire to exist.

The noise of the moment scoffs at the music of the Eternal.

The shy shadow in the garden loves the sun in silence Flowers guess the secret, and smile, while the leaves whisper.

The truth comes as conqueror only because we have lost the art of receiving it as guest.

This I of mine toils hard, day and night, for a home which it knows as its own. Alas, there will be no end of its sufferings so long as it is not able to call this home thine. Till then it will struggle on, and its heart will ever cry, Ferryman, lead me across. When this home of mine is made thine, that very moment is it taken across, even while its old walls enclose it. This I is restless. It is working for a gain which can never be assimilated with its spirit, which it never can hold and retain. In its efforts to clasp in its own arms that which is for all, it hurts others and is hurt in its turn, and cries, Lead me across. But as soon as it is able to say, All my work is thine, everything remains the same, only it is taken across. Where can I meet thee unless in this mine home made thine? Where can I join thee unless in this my work transformed into thy work? If I leave my home I shall not reach thy home; if I cease my work I can never join thee in thy work. For thou dwellest in me and I in thee. Thou without me or I without thee are nothing.

To the guests that must go, bid God's speed and brush away all traces of their steps.

Perhaps the new dawn will come from this horizon, from the East where the sun rises; and then, unvanquished Man will retrace his path of conquest, despite all barriers, to win back his lost heritage.

Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine.

The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. Time is a wealth of change…

The greed for fruit misses the flower.

The object of education is to give man the unity of truth. Formerly, when life was simple, all the different elements of man we're in complete harmony. But when there came the separation of the intellect from the spiritual and the physical, the school

The significance which is in unity is an eternal wonder.

The water in a vessel is sparkling; the water in the sea is dark. The small truth has words which are clear; the great truth has great silence.

This is my prayer to thee, my lord – strike, strike at the root of penury in my heart. Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.

Author Picture
First Name
Rabindranath
Last Name
Tagore, fully Sir Rabindranath Tagore, sobriquet Gurudev, aka Kabi Guru Rabindranath Thakur or Biswa Kabi
Birth Date
1861
Death Date
1941
Bio

Bengalese Mystical Poet, Essayist, Song Composer, Painter, Polymath, Founder Shantaniketan University, awarded Nobel Prize in Literature