One's puny ego is the worst possible foe of love. Therefore, the poet in Tagore in lamentation cries out: "I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that follows me in the silent dark?… He is my own little self, my Lord, he knows no shame; but I am ashamed to come to thy door in his company."

Again in one of his letters he says: "Egoism is the price paid for the fact of existence."