Number of quotes found: 90
From the solemn gloom of the temple children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play and forgets the priest.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf.
Source: The Gardener - 1915
I leave no trace of wings in the air,
but I am glad that I have had my flight.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
Man is not entirely an animal. He aspires to a spiritual vision, which is the vision of the whole truth. This gives him the highest delight, because it reveals to him the deepest harmony that exists between him and his surroundings.
The cloud gives all its gold
to the departing sun
and greets the rising moon
with only a pale smile.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
What is Art? It is the response of man’s creative soul to the call of the Real.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
God, the Great Giver, can open the whole universe to our gaze in the narrow space of a single land.
Source: Jivan-Smitri
When old words die out on the tongue, new melodies break forth from the heart; and where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its wonders.
Source: Gitanjali - 1912
The roots below the earth claim no rewards for making the branches fruitful.
Source: Stray Birds - 1916
Jewel-Like the immortal
does not boast of its length of years
but of the scintillating point of the moment.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
The child ever dwells in the mystery of ageless time, unobscured by the dust of history.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
In this playhouse of infinite forms I have had my play, and here have I caught sight of him that is formless.
Source: Gitanjali - 1912
In the mountain, stillness surges up
to explore its own height;
in the lake, movement stands still
to contemplate its own depth.
Source: Fireflies - 1928
Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence?
I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds.
Open your doors and look abroad.
From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before.
In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across a hundred years.
Source: The Gardener - 1915





