The smile that flickers on baby’s lips when he sleeps — does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning. – Rabindranath Tagore
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. – Rabindranath Tagore
What is Art? It is the response of mans creative soul to the call of the Real. – Rabindranath Tagore
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
The Sussex lanes were very lovely in the autumn. I started going for long lone country walks among the spendthrift gold and glory of the year-end, giving myself up to the earth-scents and the sky-winds and all the magic of the countryside which is ordained for the healing of the soul. – Monica Baldwin, I Leap Over the Wall: Contrasts and Impressions After Twenty-Eig