“In his collection of Bengali poems, “Gitanjali,” Rabindranath Tagore writes that the song he wanted to sing has never happened because he spent his days “stringing and unstringing” his instrument. Whenever I read these lines a certain sadness enters my soul – I get so preoccupied with the details and pressure of my schedule, with the hurry and worry of life, that I miss the song of goodness which is waiting to be sung through me.”
Joyce Rupp in, “May I Have This Dance?”
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