Rabindranath Tagore: A Biographical Study

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Mcmillan Company, 1915 - Authors, Bengali - 157 pages
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Page x - WHERE the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection; Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit; Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action...
Page 96 - LET all the strains of joy mingle in my last song — the joy that makes the earth flow over in the riotous excess of the grass, the joy that sets the twin brothers, life and death, dancing over the wide world, the joy that sweeps in with the tempest, shaking and waking all life with laughter, the joy that sits still with its tears on the open red lotus of pain, and the joy that throws everything it has upon the dust, and knows not a word.
Page 97 - There comes the morning with the golden basket in her right hand, bearing the wreath of beauty, silently to crown the earth. And there comes the evening over the lonely meadows deserted by herds, through trackless paths, carrying cool draughts of peace in her golden pitcher from the western ocean of rest.
Page 32 - I AM restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. 0 Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute...
Page xi - Whether and how far it recognises man more as a spirit than as a machine? Whenever some ancient civilisation fell into decay and died, it was owing to causes which produced callousness of heart and led to the cheapening of man's worth; when either the state or some powerful group of men began to look upon the people as a mere instrument of their power; when, by compelling weaker races to slavery and trying to keep them down by every means, man struck at the foundation of his greatness, his own love...
Page 73 - That which is the subtile essence, in it all that exists has its self. It is the True. It is the Self, and thou, О Svetaketu, art it." "Please, Sir, inform me still more," said the son. "Be it so, my child,
Page 163 - I have carried the manuscript of these translations about with me for days, reading it in railway trains, or on the tops of omnibuses and in restaurants, and I have often had to close it lest some stranger would see how much it moved me.
Page 120 - Being's floods, in Action's storm, I walk and work, above, beneath, Work and weave in endless motion ! Birth and Death, An infinite ocean ; A seizing and giving The fire of Living : 'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply, And weave for God the Garment thou seest Him by.
Page 32 - O the keen call of thy flute! 1 forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore. I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land. Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope. Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own. 0 Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
Page 68 - I give coloured toys to you, my child. When I sing to make you dance I truly know why there is music in leaves, and why waves send their chorus of voices to the heart of the listening earth — when I sing to make you dance. When I bring sweet things to your greedy hands I know why there is honey in the cup of the flower and why fruits are secretly filled with sweet juice — when I bring sweet things to your greedy hands. When I kiss your face to make you smile...

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