A Quote by Rabindranath Tagore

Spurious fame spreads from tongue to tongue like the fog of the early dawn before the sun rises. — © Rabindranath Tagore
Spurious fame spreads from tongue to tongue like the fog of the early dawn before the sun rises.
When anger spreads through the breath, guard thy tongue from barking idly.
What if, when this fog scatters and flies upward, the whole rotten, slimey city goes with it, rises with the fog and vanishes like smoke.
Hypocrisy is wretched because the hypocrite says with his tongue what is not in his heart. He wrongs his tongue and oppresses his heart. But if the heart is sound, the condition of the tongue follows suit. We are commanded to be upright in speech, which is a gauge of the heart's state.
The tongue never slips – remember this always. What goes on within the mind comes invariably on the tongue.
Cat got your tongue? And what a lovely tongue it is. I know. It licked every inch of me. Repeatedly. For months," He purred but with steel in the velvet
Love is kind of like when you see a fog in the morning, when you wake up before the sun comes out. It's just a little while, and then it burns away... Love is a fog that burns with the first daylight of reality.
Is the scrupulous attention I am paying to the government of my tongue at all proportioned to that tremendous truth revealed through St. James, that if I do not bridle my tongue, all my religion is vain?
Race is not the only differential in South Africa, in the new South Africa, where all schools are open, mother-tongue education is a very big issue. One of the main reasons why the dropout figure of black students, and the lower pass rate of black students in the present education system, and it was like that before, was that we didn't have mother-tongue education.
My songs are always on the tip of my tongue. It's always bubbling and brewing and about to come out. I can't really put it into words, but the best way to explain it is feeling like you constantly have some things on the tip of your tongue.
...if ever the sun rises upon Barbecue, its flavor vanishes like Cinderella's silks, and it becomes cold baked beef - staler in the chill dawn than illicit love.
Some words live in my throat breeding like adders. Others know sun seeking like gypsies over my tongue to explode through my lips
They told me many times throughout my career to bite my tongue and I told them my tongue's been bleeding since I was born.
You seem to be attracted to trouble," he said. "Yeah, she's real pretty," I replied. "Your tongue is sharper than mine ever was." I stuck out my tongue and tried to look at the tip of it.
I toyed briefly with an image someone once mentioned to me, of a village in the shadow of a twin-peaked mountain. In the morning the sun rises. At lunch it sets behind the mountain. In the early afternoon it rises once more. The cocks crow for the second time, and later the sun sets again. No. One peak. Metaphors should not be belaboured.
Let not the tongue give utterance to the evil that is in thine heart, but command thy tongue to be silent until good shall prevail over evil.
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
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