Good Heavens! She said ‘grass and goats milk? Never!’

Caprice You held a wild flower in your finger -tips, Idly you pressed it to indifferent lips, Idly you tore its crimson leaves apart... Alas! It was my heart You held wine-cup in your finger-tips, Lightly you raised it to indifferent lips,

Awake Hindus: Mother! The flowers of our worship have crowned thee! Parsees: Mother! The flame of our hope shall surround you Mussulmans: Mother! The sword of our love shall defend thee Christians: Mother! The song of thy faith shall …

As a theory of [satyagraha] which must of necessity grow and expand because it carries within itself the immortal function of life. The fire of satyagrha had been kindled in the temple or ashrama where Mahatma Gandhi is the high priest or …

Stand here with me with the stars and hills for witness and in their presence consecrate your life and your talent, your song and your speech, your thought and your dream to the Motherland. O Poet, see visions from the hill tops

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.

So All is diff’rent, and yet All is One.