He who is in love
is wise and is becoming wiser,
sees newly every time he
looks at the object beloved,
drawing from it with his eyes
and his mind those virtues
which it possesses.
Lamha Lamha Sanse Khatm Ho Rahi Hai, Jindagi Maut Ke Pahluo Me So Rahi Hai,
Us Bewafa Se Mat Pucho Meri Maut Ki Wajah. Wo To Bus Jamane Ko Dikhane Ke Liye
Ro Rahi Hai
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
