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Quote by Rabindranath Tagore

Work

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Rabindranath Tagore, Sigrid Undset [and] William Butler Yeats

This book is a compilation of literary contributions from four renowned authors: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, known for his historical and political narratives; Rabindranath Tagore, a poet and philosopher; Sigrid Undset, a writer of historical novels; and William Butler Yeats, a leading figure in modernist poetry. 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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“She tapped on the window with her embossed hairbrush. They were too far off to hear. The drone of the trees was in their ears; the chirp of birds; other incidents of garden life, inaudible, invisible to her in the bedroom, absorbed them. Isolated on a green island, hedged about with snowdrops, laid with a counterpane of puckered silk, the innocent island floated under her window. Only George lagged behind.”

“Most of us live for the critic, and he lives on us. He doesn't sacrifice himself. He gets so much a line for writing a criticism. If the birds should read the newspapers, they would all take to changing their notes. The parrots would exchange with the nightingales, and what a farce it would be!”

“Midsummer Night was roasting hot. The shore, of red granite, glowed with the heat; the dark blood of the earth seemed to be rising from below. There was a sharp, unbearable smell of birds, of cod, of green decaying seaweed. Through the mist the huge ruddy sun loomed nearer and nearer. And in the sea, dark blood welled up to meet it - in bloated, rearing, huge white waves. Night. The mouth of the bay between two cliffs was like a window. A window shutting out curious eyes with a white shade-white woolly fog. And all that you could see was that behind it something red was happening. (The North)”

“This is the day of wonders. The land is covered with trees like a head with hair and behind the ship the sun rises tipping the top trees with light. The sky is clear and shining as a china plate and the water playfully ruffled with wind. Every wisp of fog is gone and the air is full of the resinous smell of the trees. Seabirds are flashing above the sails golden like creatures from Heaven, but the sailors raise a few shots to keep them from the rigging.”

“A stone lies in a river; a piece of wood is jammed against it; dead leaves, drifting logs, and branches caked with mud collect; weeds settle there, and soon birds have made a nest and are feeding their young among the blossoming water plants. Then the river rises and the earth is washed away. The birds depart, the flowers wither, the branches are dislodged and drift downward; no trace is left of the floating island but a stone submerged by the water; - such is our personality.”