Do not say, It is morning, and dismiss it with a name of yesterday. See it for the first time as a newborn child that has no name. – Rabindranath Tagore
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. – Rabindranath Tagore