Sab के hote हुए bhi तन्हाई milti है ,
यादों me भी gum की parchhai मिलती hai ,
Jitni भी dua करते hai किसी ko पाने ki ,
उतनी hi ज्यादा unse बेवफाई milti है !
Toote Huye Dil Ki Bas Ek
Hi Kahani Hai....
Naa Unko Hum Pe
Vishwas Tha...
Naa Unko Humse Pyaar
Tha...
Hum To Jee Rahe The
Juth Ki Duniya Main...
Kyuki Wo Sanam Hi
Bewafa Tha...
Bikta Agar Pyaar To Kaun Nahi Kharidta ,
Bikti Agar Khusiya To Kaun Use Bechta,
Dard Agar Bikta To Hum Aapse Kharid Lete,
Or Aap Ki Khusi Ke Liye Hum Khud Ko Bech Dete.
If we offer too much silent assent about mysticism and superstition - even when it seems to be doing a little good - we abet a general climate in which scepticism is considered impolite, science tiresome, and rigorous thinking somehow stuffy and inappropriate.
Saaki Se Kah Do Ki May Me Ab Wo Baat Na Rahi
Jab Se Nigaaho Se Pee Hai Botal Ki Yaad Na Rahi
Behosh Kaun Karta Hai Ye To Waqt Hi Batayega
Par Jaam Me Ab Unki Nigaaho Si Kaaynaat Na
Rahi
Christianity satisfies suddenly and perfectly man's ancestral instinct for being the right way up; satisfies it supremely in this, that by its creed Joy becomes something gigantic, and Sadness something special and small.
मकर संन्क्राती के दिन आपके जीवन का अँधेरा:new_moon: छत जाये एवम ज्ञान और प्रकाश:sun_with_face: से आपका जीवन उज्जवल हो जाये ! हैप्पी संक्रांत I :diamond_shape_with_a_dot_inside::large_orange_diamond::diamond_shape_with_a_dot_inside::large_orange_diamond::diamond_shape_with_a_dot_inside::large_orange_diamond::diamond_shape_with_a_dot_inside:
But it feels good to love a thing and not expect anything back. It feels good to not get an argument or any pushiness or any rumors or any bullshit. It's love without strings. It's ideal.
Dil Ki Basti Ko Veeran Na Banaye Rakhna,
Kuch Na Ho To Yaado Ko Sajaye Rakhna,
Mulaqaton Na Ho To Na Sahi,
Hum Se Jaise Bhi Ho Koi Rishta Banaye Rakhna.
Everybody is a political person, whether you say something or you are silent. A political attitude is not whether you go to parliament; it's how you deal with your life, with your surroundings.
Death is a great price to pay for a red rose“, cried the Nightingale, "and Life is very dear to all. “ It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent oft he hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?