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A butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.
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
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Writer
Calcutta
Rabīndranātha Thākur
Kabiguru
Tagore
Bishwakabi
R. Tagore
Rabindranat Tagor
Bhanu Singha Thakur
Gurudev
Biswakabi
Nyi Wang Gönpo
Tagore
rabindranath
Nature
Flitting
Ever
Butterfly
Mines
Mine
Remains
Flower
Lose
Loses
Netted
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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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Languages are jealous sovereigns, and passports are rarely allowed for travellers to cross their strictly guarded borders.
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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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Art awakens a sense of real by establishing an intimate relationship between our inner being and the universe at large, bringing us a consciousness of deep joy.
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For man is by nature an artist.
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Those who are near me do not know that you are nearer to me than they are Those who speak to me do not know that my heart is full with your unspoken words Those who crowd in my path do not know that I am walking alone with you Those who love me do not know that their love brings you to my heart
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You are invited to the festival of this world and your life is blessed.
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Truth looks tawdry when she is overdressed.
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Repentance is a gift of God's grace.
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If God had so wished, he would have made all Indians speak with one language ... the unity of India has been and shall always be a unity in diversity.
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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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We gain freedom when we have paid the full price.
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