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Rabindranath Tagore quotes
Rabindranath Tagore (1861 to 1941) was a Bengali poet, songwriter, novelist and educator who founded a school at Santiniketan. In 1913 he became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. Quill quotes Stray Birds, Gitanjali, Fruit-Gathering, The Gardener and his lectures in Sadhana.
Stray Birds is the place to begin: very short poems, a couple of lines each, that fit a Lock Screen as if planned. Bengali readers will tell you the English versions are a thin slice of him, and they're right, but it's a good slice.
60 lines shown, from the 81 in Quill. Only lines checked against a public-domain text appear on this page.
Stray Birds
Read Stray Birds on Project Gutenberg
Set bird's wings with gold and it will never again soar in the sky.
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The movement of life has its rest in its own music. 228 Kicks only raise dust and not crops from the earth. 229 Our names are the light that glows on the sea waves at night and then dies without leaving its signature. 230 Let him only see the thorns who has eyes to see the rose. 231 Set bird's wings with gold and it will never again soar in the sky. 232 The same lotus of our clime blooms here in the alien water with the same sweetness, under another name. 233 In heart's perspective the distance looms large. 234 The moon has her light all over the sky, her dark spots to herself. 235 Do not say, "It is morning," and dismiss it with a name of
What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow.
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Do not seat your love upon a precipice because it is high. 16 I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes. 17 These little thoughts are the rustle of leaves; they have their whisper of joy in my mind. 18 What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow. 19 My wishes are fools, they shout across thy songs, my Master. Let me but listen. 20 I cannot choose the best. The best chooses me. 21 They throw their shadows before them who carry their lantern on their back. 22 That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.
The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.
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If you shut your door to all errors truth will be shut out. 131 I hear some rustle of things behind my sadness of heart,—I cannot see them. 132 Leisure in its activity is work. The stillness of the sea stirs in waves. 133 The leaf becomes flower when it loves. The flower becomes fruit when it worships. 134 The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful. 135 This rainy evening the wind is restless. I look at the swaying branches and ponder over the greatness of all things. 136 Storm of midnight, like a giant child awakened in the untimely dark, has begun to play and shout. 137 Thou raisest thy waves vainly to follow thy lover. O sea, thou
Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves.
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The tree seeks his solitude of the sky. 79 Man barricades against himself. 80 Your voice, my friend, wanders in my heart, like the muffled sound of the sea among these listening pines. 81 What is this unseen flame of darkness whose sparks are the stars? 82 Let life be beautiful like summer flowers and death like autumn leaves. 83 He who wants to do good knocks at the gate; he who loves finds the gate open. 84 In death the many becomes one; in life the one becomes many. Religion will be one when God is dead. 85 The artist is the lover of Nature, therefore he is her slave and her master.
The Great walks with the Small without fear.
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"Who is there to take up my duties?" asked the setting sun. "I shall do what I can, my Master," said the earthen lamp. 154 By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower. 155 Silence will carry your voice like the nest that holds the sleeping birds. 156 The Great walks with the Small without fear. The Middling keeps aloof. 157 The night opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get thanks. 158 Power takes as ingratitude the writhings of its victims. 159 When we rejoice in our fulness, then we can part with our fruits with joy. 160 The raindrops kissed the earth and whispered,—"We are thy
Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silence.
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The touch of the nameless days clings to my heart like mosses round the old tree. 107 The echo mocks her origin to prove she is the original. 108 God is ashamed when the prosperous boasts of His special favour. 109 I cast my own shadow upon my path, because I have a lamp that has not been lighted. 110 Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silence. 111 That which ends in exhaustion is death, but the perfect ending is in the endless. 112 The sun has his simple robe of light. The clouds are decked with gorgeousness. 113 The hills are like shouts of children who raise their arms, trying to catch stars.
Let the world find its way to you.
The walk is in the raising of the foot as in the laying of it down.
The small truth has words that are clear; the great truth has great silence.
To be outspoken is easy when you do not wait to speak the complete truth.
Do not linger to gather flowers to keep them, but walk on, for flowers will keep themselves blooming all your way.
The lamp of meeting burns long; it goes out in a moment at the parting.
We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.
Thank the flame for its light, but do not forget the lampholder standing in the shade with constancy of patience.
The false can never grow into truth by growing in power.
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower.
Wash thy soul with silence.
The moon has her light all over the sky, her dark spots to herself.
We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.
Life has become richer by the love that has been lost.
Blessed is he whose fame does not outshine his truth.
Death's stamp gives value to the coin of life; making it possible to buy with life what is truly precious.
The night opens the flowers in secret and allows the day to get thanks.
Rest belongs to the work as the eyelids to the eyes.
Never be afraid of the moments—thus sings the voice of the everlasting.
The stream of truth flows through its channels of mistakes.
You smiled and talked to me of nothing and I felt that for this I had been waiting long.
Sit still my heart, do not raise your dust.
The Perfect decks itself in beauty for the love of the Imperfect.
Time is the wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.
Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love.
Death belongs to life as birth does.
Dark clouds become heaven's flowers when kissed by light.
The scabbard is content to be dull when it protects the keenness of the sword.
We live in this world when we love it.
Praise shames me, for I secretly beg for it.
The world has kissed my soul with its pain, asking for its return in songs.
A mind all logic is like a knife all blade.
Gitanjali
Read Gitanjali on Project Gutenberg
Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.
The sky is flushed with the dawn and my path lies beautiful.
Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.
Let not the hours pass by in the dark.
Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows.
In the night of weariness let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, resting my trust upon thee.
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
Fruit-Gathering
Read Fruit-Gathering on Project Gutenberg
You muse and weep for the days that are done, poor heart!
Be glad that days are to come!
Let hard blows of trouble strike fire into my life.
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers but to be fearless in facing them.
Let me not bend my heart to the yoke of the many.
Let me not pursue many paths to gather many things.
Sadhana
Read Sadhana on Project Gutenberg
If we have an aim and yet can never reach it, then it is no aim at all.
Man is not complete; he is yet to be.
Pain, which is the feeling of our finiteness, is not a fixture in our life.
Let us fully live the life thou hast given us, let us bravely take and bravely give.
Our heart ever changes its place till it finds love, and then it has its rest.
A thing is only completely our own when it is a thing of joy to us.
The Gardener
Read The Gardener on Project Gutenberg
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Our life is short; it yields but a few days for love.
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