We must widen the circle of our love until it embraces the whole village; the village in turn must take into its fold the district; the district the province, and so on till the scope of our love encompasses the whole world.
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
log kehte hain wo mujse juda rehta hai ban k dharkan jo mere dil me basa rehta hai yun meri zat me shamil hai uski hasti jistarha sary zamany me khuda rehta hai
True sadness is when you love someone,
and you know that they love you back,
and then one of you leaves and the other feels as
if they will never be whole again.
