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

The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth's dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart.

Those who own much have much to fear

Only there is the agony of wishing in my heart… I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house… But the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house; I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.

Reach high, for stars lie hidden in you. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal.

That side of our existence whose direction is towards the infinite seeks not wealth, but freedom and joy. There the reign of necessity ceases, and there our function is not to get but to be. To be what? To be one with Brahma. For the region of the infinite is the region of unity. Therefore the Upanishads say: If man apprehends God he becomes true. Here it is becoming, it is not having more. Words do no gather bulk when you know their meaning; they become true by being one with the idea.

The emancipation of our physical nature is in attaining health, of our social being in attaining goodness, and of our self in attaining love.

The man who aims at his own aggrandisement underrates everything else.

The progress of our soul is like a perfect poem. It has an infinite idea which once realized makes all movements full of meaning and joy. But if we detach its movements from that ultimate idea, if we do not see the infinite rest and only see the infinite motion, then existence appears to us a monstrous evil., impetuously rushing towards an unending aimlessness.

The stars crowd round the virgin night in silent awe at her loneliness thay can never be touched.

There are men whose idea of life is tactic, who long for its continuation after death only because of their wish for permanence and not perfection; they love to imagine that the things to which they are accustomed will persist for ever. They completely identify themselves in their minds with their fixed surroundings and with whatever they have gathered, and to have to leave these is death for them. They forget that the true meaning of living is outliving, it is ever growing out of itself.

Thou hast risen late, my crescent moon, but my night bird is still awake to greet thee.

Open your doors and look abroad.

Religion is not a fractional thing that can be doled out in fixed weekly or daily measures as one among various subjects in the school syllabus. It is the truth of our complete being, the consciousness of our personal relationship with the infinite; it is the true center of gravity of our life. This we can attain during our childhood by daily living in a place where the truth of the spiritual world is not obscured by a crowd of necessities assuming artificial importance; where life is simple, surrounded by fullness of leisure, by ample space and pure air and profound peace of nature; and where men live with a perfect faith in the eternal life before them.

That which is eternal within the moment only becomes shallow if spread out in time.

The faith waiting in the heart of a seed promises a miracle of life which it cannot prove at once.

The man whose acquaintance with the world does not lead him deeper than science leads him, will never understand what it is that the man with the spiritual vision finds in these natural phenomena. The water does not merely cleanse his limbs, but it p

The question why there is evil in existence is the same as why there is imperfection... But this is the real question we ought to ask: Is this imperfection the final truth, is evil absolute and ultimate?

The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest. They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate. The free bird cries, O my love, let us fly to the wood. The cage bird whispers, Come hither, let us both live in the cage. Says the free bird, Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings? Alas, cries the caged bird, I should not know where to sit perched in the sky. The free bird cries, My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands. The cage bird sings, Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned. The forest bird cries, No, ah no! songs can never be taught.

There are two kinds of adventurers: those who go truly hoping to find adventure and those who go secretly hoping they won’t.

Though the West has accepted as its teacher him who boldly proclaimed his oneness with his Father, and who exhorted his followers to be perfect as God, it has never been reconciled to this idea of our unity with the infinite being. It condemns, as a piece of blasphemy, any implication of man's becoming God. This is certainly not the idea that Christ preached, nor perhaps the idea of the Christian mystics, but this seems to be the idea that has become popular in the Christian west. But the highest wisdom in the East holds that it is not the function of our soul to gain God, to utilize him for any special material purpose. All that we can ever aspire to is to become more and more one with God. In the region of nature, which is the region of diversity, we grow by acquisition; in the spiritual world, which is the region of unity, we grow by losing ourselves, by uniting. Gaining a thing, as we have said, is by its nature partial, it is limited only to a particular want; but being is complete, it belongs to our wholeness, it springs not from any necessity but from our affinity with the infinite, which is the principle of perfection that we have in our soul.

Our creation is the modification of relationship.

Religion, like poetry, is not a mere idea, it is expression. The self-expression of God is in the endless variety of creation; and our attitude toward the Infinite Being must also in its expression have a variety of individuality ceaseless and unending. Those sects which jealously build their boundaries with too rigid creeds excluding all spontaneous movement of the living spirit may hoard their theology but they kill religion.

The alter that is drowned in blood. Let your thunder strike Into the prison of false religion, And bring to this unhappy land The light of Knowledge.

The first flower that blossomed on this earth was an invitation to the unborn song.

The meaning of our self is not to be found in it's separateness from God and others, but in the ceaseless realisation of yoga, of union; not on the side of the canvas where it is blank, but on the side where the picture is being painted.

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