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Quote by Rabindranath Tagore

Work

Delphi Collected Works of Rabindranath Tagore (Illustrated)

This illustrated volume encompasses a wide range of Rabindranath Tagore's literary contributions, showcasing his poetry, prose, and plays, accompanied by visual elements. more

Author

Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore

Rabindranath Tagore, a renowned Indian poet, writer, philosopher, and social activist, was born on May 7, 1861, in Calcutta, and passed away on August 7, 1941. Tagore's works blend the influences of traditional Indian literature and Western literature, and his poetry, novels, plays, and essays have won the hearts of readers worldwide. He was the first Asian writer to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, and his works have had a profound impact on world literature. more

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“In the laboratory, we call this the six-degrees-of-separation-from-cancer rule: you can ask any biological question, no matter how seemingly distant-what makes the heart fail, or why worms age, or even how birds learn songs-and you will end up, in fewer than six genetic steps, connecting with a proto-oncogene or tumor suppressor.”

“I wonder how, among the Fremont, mothers and daughters shared their world. Did they walk side by side along the lake edge? What stories did they tell while weaving strips of bulrush into baskets? How did daughters bury their mothers and exercise their grief? What were the secret rituals of women? I feel certain they must have been tied to birds.”

“They adored each other; but still the permanent and the immutable subsist. We may love and laugh, pout, clasp hands, smile, and exchange endearments, but that does not affect eternity. Two lovers hide in the dusk of evening, amid flowers and the twittering of birds, and enchant each other with their hearts shinning in their eyes; but the stars in their course still circle through infinite space.”

“Tell the story, gather the events, repeat them. Pattern is a matter of upkeep. Otherwise the weave relaxes back to threads picked up by birds to make their nests. Repeat, or the story will fall and all the king's horses and all the king's men. . . . Repeat, and cradle the pieces carefully, or events will scatter like marbles on a wooden floor.”

“In exchange for his first taste of powdered milk, Pascal showed me a tree we could climb to find a bird's nest. After we handled and examined the pink-skinned baby birds, he popped one of them into his mouth like a jujube. It seemed to please him a lot. He offered a baby bird to me, pantomiming that I should eat it. I understood perfectly well what he meant, but I refused. He did not seem disappointed to have to eat the whole brood himself.”