Rabindranath Tagore

He who is too busy doing good finds no time to be good.

When we rejoice in our fulness, then we can part with our fruits with joy.

Time is the wealth of change, but the clock in its parody makes it mere change and no wealth.

The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.

If you shut your door to all errors truth will be shut out.

Asks the Possible to the Impossible, "Where is your dwelling place?" "In the dreams of the impotent," comes the answer.

To be outspoken is easy when you do not wait to speak the complete truth.

Man goes into the noisy crowd to drown his own clamour of silence.

Never be afraid of the moments—thus sings the voice of the everlasting.

We come nearest to the great when we are great in humility.

Life is given to us, we earn it by giving it.

Your idol is shattered in the dust to prove that God's dust is greater than your idol.

God finds himself by creating.

The fish in the water is silent, the animal on the earth is noisy, the bird in the air is singing, But Man has in him the silence of the sea, the noise of the earth and the music of the air.

That I exist is a perpetual surprise which is life.

Reason tells us that creation never can be perfectly happy. So long as it is incomplete it must put up with imperfection and sorrow. It can only be perfect when it ceases to be creation, and is God. Do our prayers dare go so far?

It sometimes strikes me how immensely fortunate I am that each day should take its place in my life, either reddened with the rising and setting sun, or refreshingly cool with deep, dark clouds, or blooming like a white flower in the …

The world is ever new to me; like an old friend loved through this and former lives, the acquaintance between us is both long and deep.

When sorrow is deepest...then the surface crust is pierced, and consolation wells up, and all the forces of patience and courage are banded together to do their duty. Thus great suffering brings with it the power of great endurance. So …

Every person is worthy of an infinite wealth of love — the beauty of his soul knows no limit.

The light of the stars travels millions of miles to reach the earth, but it cannot reach our hearts — so many millions of miles further off are we!

For thou dwellest in me and I in thee. Thou without me or I without thee are nothing.

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 …

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.