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

Power said to the world, You are mine. The world kept it prisoner on her throne. Love said to the world, I am thine. The world gave it the freedom of her house.

Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time, unobscured by the dust of history.

The highest purpose of this world is not merely living in it, knowing it and making use of it, but realizing our own selves in it through expansion of sympathy; not alienating ourselves from it and dominating it, but comprehending and uniting it with ourselves in perfect union.

The picture of a flower in a botanical book is information; its mission ends with our knowledge. But in pure art it is a personal communication. And therefore until it finds its harmony in the depth of our personality it misses the mark. We can treat existence solely as a textbook furnishing us lessons, and we shall not be disappointed, but we know that there its mission does not end. For in our joy in it, which is an end in itself, we feel that it is a communication, the final response of our knowing but the response of our being.

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

The world is the ever-changing foam that floats on the surface of a sea of silence.

Those who draw their sustenance from science are blessed. It is for me to only derive an occasional pleasure. This is nothing worthy of conceit, but I am indeed touched by the joys. This book is an ode to such joys, a digest of my collections from various sources.

True modernism is freedom of mind, not slavery of taste. It is independence of thought and action, not tutelage under European schoolmasters. It is science but not it's wrong application to life.

Power takes as ingratitude the writhing of its victims

Taking shelter in the dead is death itself, and only taking all the risk of life to the fullest extent is living.

The child learns so easily because he has a natural gift, but adults, because they are tyrants, ignore natural gifts and say that children must learn through the same process that they learned by. We insist upon forced mental feeding and our lessons become a form of torture. This is one of man’s most cruel and wasteful mistakes.

The human soul is on its journey from the law to love, from discipline to liberation, from the moral plane to the spiritual. Buddha preached the discipline of self-restraint and moral life; it is a complete acceptance of law. But this bondage of law cannot be an end by itself; by mastering it thoroughly we acquire the means of getting beyond it. It is going back to Brahma, to the infinite love, which is manifesting itself through the finite forms of law.

The pious sectarian is proud because he is confident of his right of possession in God. The man of devotion is meek because he is conscious of God’s right of love over his life and soul. The object of our possession becomes smaller than ourselves, and without acknowledging it in so many words the bigoted sectarian has an implicit belief that God can be kept secured for certain individuals in a cage which is of their own make. In a similar manner the primitive races of men believe that their ceremonials have a magic influence upon their deities. Sectarianism is a perverse form of worldliness in the disguise of religion; it breeds a narrowness of heart in a greater measure than the cult of the world based upon material interest can ever do. For undisguised pursuit of self has its safety in openness, like filth exposed to the sun and air. But the self-magnification with its consequent lessening of God that goes on unchecked under the cover of sectarianism loses its chance of salvation because it defiles the very source of purity.

The song I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart

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

Those who have everything but thee, my God, laugh at those who have nothing but thyself.

Only love is motion and rest in one. Our heart ever changes its place till it finds love, and then it has its rest. But this rest itself is an intense form of activity where utter quiescence and unceasing energy meet at the same point in love. In love, loss and gain are harmonized. In its balance-sheet, credit and debit accounts are in the same column, and gifts are added to gains. In this wonderful festival of creation, this great ceremony of self-sacrifice of God, the lover constantly gives himself up to gain himself in love. Indeed, love is what brings together and inseparably connects both the act of abandoning and that of receiving.

Praise shames me, for I secretly beg for it.

Tattoos have a power and magic all their own. They decorate the body but they also enhance the soul.

The cloud gives all its gold to the departing sun and greets the rising moon with only a pale smile.

The infant is born in the same universe where lives the adult of ripe mind. But its position is not like a schoolboy who has yet to learn his alphabet, finding himself in a college class. The infant has it own joy of life because the world is not a mere road, but a home, of which it will have more and more as it grows up in wisdom. With our road that gain is at every step, for it is the road and the home in one; it leads us on yet gives us shelter.

The poets’ role is that of capturing on their instruments the secret stir of life in the air and giving it voice in the music of prophecy.

The spirit of rejection finds its support in the consciousness of separateness; the spirit of acceptance finds its base in the consciousness of unity.

The worm while exploring the dust

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