Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest.
Kaise sukoon paau tujhe dekhne k baad..
Kya gazal sunaau tujhe dekhne k baad..
Aawaz de rahi hai meri zindgi mujhe..
Jaau na jaau main tujhe dekhne ke baad…
Suna hai pyaar karne wale ajeeb hote hain ,
Khushi ke badle gam nashib hote hain ,
Doston mohabbat nahi karna kabhi ,
KYONKI,
Pyaar karne wale bahoot badnashib hote hain !!
I appeal now to the convictions of the communicants, and ask such persons whether they have not been occasionally conscious of a painful confusion of thought between the worship due to God and the commemoration due to Christ.
I was an arden Hayes man, but that was natural, for I was pretty young at the time, I have since convinced myself that the political opinioins of a nation are of next to no value, in any case, but that what little rag of value they posess is to be found among the old, rather than among the young.
Everybody should do in their lifetime, sometime, two things. One is to consider death...to observe skulls and skeletons and to wonder what it will be like to go to sleep and never wake up-never. That is a most gloomy thing for contemplation; it's like manure. Just as manure fertilizes the plants and so on, so the contemplation of death and the acceptance of death is very highly generative of creating life. You'll get wonderful things out of that.
Dosto se problem share krna
achha hota hai.
.
.
"Isliye nhi ki wo use solve
krte hai Par .
.
.
.
Sale aise-aise solutions dete h
ki hm problm hi bhul jate hai.
hai tere kan zulf-e-muimbar lagi hui
rakkhegi ye na bal barabar lagi hui
baithe bhare hue hain khum-e-mai ke tarah hum
par kya karen ke muhar hai muh par lagi hui
mayyat ko gusal dijo na khaksar ke
hai tan pe khak-e-kucha-e-dilbar lagi hui
nikle hai kab kisi se bhi us ke mizha ke nok
hai phans si kaleje ke andar lagi hui
ae ‘zauq’ dekh dukhtar-e-raz ko na muh laga
chutati nahi hai muh se ye kafir lagi hui
In a world where everyone struggles to survive whatever the cost, how could one judge those people who decide to die? No one can judge. Each person knows the extent of their own suffering or the total absence of meaning in their lives.
Khilkhilati subah,Tazgi se bhara savera H,
fulo or baharo ne Apke liye rng bikhera H,
subah keh rhi hai jaag jao,
Apki muskurahat k bina sab Adhura Hai.
^-^ GÖÖD MÖRNING ^-^