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The greed for fruit misses the flower.

Rabindranath Tagore

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Rabindranath Tagore
Age: 80 †
Born: 1861
Born: May 6
Died: 1941
Died: August 7
Artist
Author
Composer
Essayist
Film Director
Lyricist
Painter
Philosopher
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Poet
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Songwriter
Writer
Calcutta
Rabīndranātha Thākur
Kabiguru
Tagore
Bishwakabi
R. Tagore
Rabindranat Tagor
Bhanu Singha Thakur
Gurudev
Biswakabi
Nyi Wang Gönpo
Tagore
rabindranath
Greed
Fruit
Flower
Missing
Misses

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From the grasses in the field to the stars in the sky, each one is doing just that and there is such profound peace and surpassing beauty in nature because none of these tries forcibly to transgress its limitations.
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Wrong is wrong only when you are at liberty to choose.
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Who are you, a hundred years from today, reading my poetry with curiosity?
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The question and the cry 'Oh, where?' melt into tears of a thousand streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance 'I am!'
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The stars are not afraid to appear like fireflies.
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When we accept any discipline for ourselves, we try to avoid everything except that which is necessary for our purpose it is this purposefulness, which belongs to the adult mind, that we force upon school children. We say, Never keep your mind aler.
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The smile that flickers on a baby’s lips when he sleeps- does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning.
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O Woman, you are not merely the handiwork of God, but also of men these are ever endowing you with beauty from their own hearts ... You are one-half woman and one-half dream.
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Life itself is a strange mixture. We have to take it as it is, try to understand it, and then to better it.
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Boasting is only a masked shame it does not truly believe in itself.
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I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
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And joy is everywhere it is in the earth's green covering of grass in the blue serenity of the sky.
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I ask my destiny - what power is this That cruelly drives me onward without rest? My destiny says, Look round! I turn back and see It is I myself that is ever pushing me from behind.
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Today I feel that I shall win through. I have come to the gateway of the simple I am now content to see things as they are. I have gained freedom myself I shall allow freedom to others. In my work will be my salvation.
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A thorn can only be extracted if you know where it is.
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The human soul is on its journey from the law to love, from discipline to liberation, from the moral plane to the spiritual.
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Jewel-Like the immortaldoes not boast of its length of yearsbut of the scintillating point of the moment.
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Poems On Love Love adorns itself it seeks to prove inward joy by outward beauty. Love does not claim possession, but gives freedom. Love is an endless mystery, for it has nothing else to explain it. Love's gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted.
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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 . . .
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Whatever character our theology may ascribe to him, in reality God is the infinite ideal of Man, towards whom men move in their collective growth, with whom they seek their union of love as individuals, in whom they find their ideal of father, friend and beloved.
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