Yado ko unki ham ne khone na diya,
Gamo ne hame chup hone na diya,
Aankhe to aaj bhi bhar ayi unki yaad me,
Par unki hasti hui surat ne hame rone na diya.
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again
And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
Let them not live to taste this land's increase
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace!
Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again:
That she may long live here, God say amen!
I have a feeling I shall go mad. I cannot go on longer in these terrible times. I shan't recover this time. I hear voices and cannot concentrate on my work. I have fought against it but cannot fight any longer.
I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the kind that we experience in ourselves. Neither can I nor would I want to conceive of an individual that survives his physical death; let feeble souls, from fear or absurd egoism, cherish such thoughts. I am satisfied with the mystery of the eternity of life and with the awareness and a glimpse of the marvelous structure of the existing world, together with the devoted striving to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the Reason that manifests itself in nature.
Teri ruh me utar jaane ko ji chahta hai,
Teri yaadon me kho jaane ko ji chahta hai,
Teri Ishq me fana ho jaau is kadar,
Khuda bhi kahe teri jeene ka raaz kya hai.
Teri chahat me ham zamaana bhool gaye.
Tere baad kisiko apnaana bhool gye.
Phir laga sara janhaa virana hamko.
Jaise chaman me phool mehkana bhool gaye.
Tumse mohabbt hai btaya sare jahaan ko.
Yehi baat batana tumko bhool gaye.
Hamne mita diy janha bhi likha tha naam tera.
Magar apne dil se mitana bhool gaye.
Wo juda huye hamse muskurate huye.