The Taj Mahal rises above the banks of the river like a solitary tear suspended on the cheek of time.

Life itself is a strange mixture. We have to take it as it is, try to understand it, and then to better it.

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action-Into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake.

The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of its tail.

When I go from hence, let this be my parting word, that what I have seen is unsurpassable.

Let it not be death but completeness. Let love melt into memory and pain into songs. Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest. Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night. Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence. I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.

I am hidden in your heart, O Flower.