“The song I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart . . .”

“I have spent many days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung.”

“I have on my table a violin string. It is free to move in any direction I like. If I twist one end, it responds; it is free.But it is not free to sing. So I take it and fix it into my violin. I bind it and when it is bound, it is free for the first time to sing.”

“I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I cam to sing remains unsung.Rabindranath Tagore”

“Stray birds of the summer come to my window to sing and fly away.And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.O TROUPE of little vagrants of the world, leave your footprints in my words . . . ”

“A message came from my youth of vanished days, saying, 'I wait for you among the quivering of unborn May, where smiles ripen for tears and hours ache with songs unsung.' It says, 'Come to me across the worn-out track of age, through the gates of death. For dreams fade, hopes fail, the fathered fruits of the year decay, but I am the eternal truth, and you shall meet me again and again in your voyage of life from shore to shore.”

“Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.”