Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore FRAS, also written Ravīndranātha Thākura, sobriquet Gurudev, was a Bengali polymath who reshaped Bengali literature and music, as well as Indian art with Contextual Modernism in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Author of Gitanjali and its "profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse", he became the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913. In translation his poetry was viewed as spiritual and mercurial; however, his "elegant prose and magical poetry" remain largely unknown...
NationalityIndian
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth7 May 1861
CityKolkata, India
CountryIndia
The greatest distance in this World is not that between living and death, it is when I am just before you, and you don't know that I Love You.
Let me light my lamp", says the star, "And never debate if it will help to remove the darkness
Everything comes to us that belongs to us if we create the capacity to receive it.
It is very simple to be happy, but it is very difficult to be simple.
Go not to the temple to put flowers upon the feet of God, first fill your own house with the fragrance of love. Go not to the temple to light candles before the altar of God, first remove the darkness of sin from your heart. Go not to the temple to bow down your head in prayer, first learn to bow in humility before your fellow men. Go not to the temple to pray on bended knees, first bend down to lift someone who is down trodden. Go not to the temple to ask for forgiveness for your sins, first forgive from your heart those who have sinned against you.
The earth paints a portrait of the sun at dawn with sunflowers in bloom. Unhappy with the portrait, she erases it and paints it again and again.
While God waits for His temple to be built of love, men bring stones.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free .....
Life itself is a strange mixture. We have to take it as it is, try to understand it, and then to better it.
The tyrant claims freedom to kill freedom, and yet keep it for himself.
In death the many become one; in life the one become many.
These paper boats of mine are meant to dance on the ripples of hours, and not reach any destination.
The water vessel, taken as a vessel only, raises the question, "Why does it exist at all?" Through its fitness of construction, it offers the apology for its existence. But where it is a work of beauty it has no question to answer; it has nothing to do, but to be.