Few persons can be made to believe that it is not quite an easy thing to invent a method of secret writing that shall baffle investigation. Yet it may be roundly asserted that human ingenuity cannot concoct a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve.
We can choose a future where we export more products and outsource fewer jobs. After a decade that was defined by what we bought and borrowed, we're getting back to basics, and doing what America has always done best: We're making things again.
Mere har Ghari k Humsfar
...Meri Ulfaton ka jawab de
....Mere Pyar ka Mere Ishq ka
..Sabhi Chahton ka Hisab de....
Maine Zindgi ki har Ghari
Teri Justju me guzar di...
Mujhe ab Tu Apna Shumar kar....
Mujhe Bewaja na Azab de....
Mei Bikhar rha hun Tutkar
..Teri Ulfaton ki Talash mei..
Mere Ansuon ko Samet le
...Meri Ankhon ko koi Khwab de.
The business of the poet is not to find new emotions, but to use the ordinary ones and, in working them up into poetry, to express feelings which are not in actual emotions at all.
The terrors of the child are quite reasonable, and add to his loveliness; for his utter ignorance and weakness, and his enchanting indignation on such a small basis of capital compel every bystander to take his part.
Woh Kya Jane Pyar Ki Keemat Kya Hoti Hai,
Jab Nhi Milta Pyar To Aankhe Kitna Roti Hain,
Kbhi Na Kbhi To Wo Bhi Kisi Se Dil Lagayegi,
Karegi Vo Bewafai To Meri Wafa Ki Yaad Ayegi.