নিজের হাতে উপার্জনে সাধনা নেই সহিষ্ণুতার। পরের কাছে হাত পেতে খাই, বাহাদুরি তারি গুঁতার। কৃপণ দাতার অন্নপাকে ডাল যদি বা কমতি থাকে গাল-মিশানো গিলি তো ভাত-- নাহয় তাতে নেইকো সুতার। নিজের জুতার পাত্তা না পাই, স্বাদ পাওয়া যায় পরের জুতার।
IN THE LIGHT of this thriftless day of spring, my poet, sing of those who pass by and do not linger, who laugh as they run and never look back, who blossom in an hour of unreasoning delight, and fade in a moment without regret. Do not sit down silently, to tell the beads of your past tears and smiles,-do not stop to pick up the dropped petals from the flowers of overnight, do not go to seek things that evade you, to know the meaning that is not plain,-leave the gaps in your life where they are, for the music to come out of their depths.
THE CURRENT in which I drifted ran rapid and strong when I was young. The spring breeze was spendthrift of itself, the trees were on fire with flowers; and the birds never slept from singing. I sailed with giddy speed, carried away by the flood of passion; I had no time to see and feel and take the world into my being. Now that youth has ebbed and I am stranded on the bank, I can hear the deep music of all things, and the sky opens to me its heart of stars.
