Ik Isharay Ki Muntizer Hon Teraiy, Phir Mujh Sey Kiun Faslon Pay Rehtey Ho Dedaar Tera Ho Jai Terey Ashiq Ko Our Kia Chaheye Tamana Hai Tujhe Bahon Mein Bhero Labon Ko Chomo Khatim Houa Intezaar Aa Jou ,Yeh Sada Chaheye
True love is eternal, infinite, and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations: it is seen with white hairs and is always young in the heart.
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists. When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
Luv not one, Luv not two Luv d one who luvs u true,
Luv not three, Luv not four Luv d one who luvs u more,
Luv not five, Luv not six Luv d one who really sticks,
Luv not seven, Luv not eight Luv d one who really waits
