The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves,
and not to twist them to fit our own image.
Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.
Zamane bhar ki baton mei hame bhula na dena
jab kabhi yaad aaye to zara muskura dena
zinda rahe to milenge dost
nahi to har diwali mere naam ka diya jala dena
hamne apni sanso par unka naam likh liya,
nahi jante the ki hamne kuchh galat kiya,
wo pyaar ka vada hamse karke mukar gaye,
khair unki bewafai se kuchh to sabak liya......
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers'' eyes. Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers'' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall and a preserving sweet
