"indian-authors"タグの名言

Marriage is not kick-boxing, it's salsa dancing.

Dear Fellow Human Being, You are born wild, You do not deserve to be tamed! Tell yourself, You do not deserve this! All those toxic words you have to listen from people, All those fears they try to pin on your mind, All those giggles they aim at your dreams, All those judgmental stares inspecting your individuality, All those fingers pointing towards your crude character, All those shackles that tie your feet to social expectations, All those cages that do not let your imagination fly free, Listen deeply, you do not deserve any of it. My dear fellow human, you do not deserve this hostility. You are born wild, You do not deserve to be tamed!

When you have power and use it for destructive purpose: you don't deserve it.

When it's possible for you to dream, it's not impossible to achieve.

Words are powerful forces of nature. they are destruction. they are nourishment. they are flesh. they are water. they are flowers and bone. they burn. they cleanse they erase. they etch. they can either leave you feeling homeless or brimming with home.

your hand touching mine. this is how galaxies collide.

To fall in love with someone's thoughts - the most intimate, splendid romance.

i write because it is the only way i can reach you.

And, thus we went out. We talked. Briefly. Intensely. Being as open as we could. Judging as little as possible. For an hour or less. Every day or every alternate day. Over the last month or so. We talked till we parted. Initially, we found our time too short and childishly expressed that we would look forward to our next chat. Then we saw the value of speaking face-to-face, in a city that hardly spoke. We cherished our little time. Our conversations grew deeper. We set them free. And returning home felt less shackling. We shared nothing more. An accidental touch of fingers, or a wrist held while crossing the road, or an arm around the shoulder, rather barely above it, scraping the thin air. But we didn’t hold hands. We didn’t hug. We hadn’t so far. Though we both wanted it. So badly.

Ruhi blushed. She had a peculiar way of being embarrassed. She would restrain a smile and look at my wrist, or my ring, or my sleeves, or my shirt collar - just about any place that would keep her gaze away from my eyes.

the saddest thing is to be a minute to someone, when you've made them your eternity.

funny how our hearts were designed to love so fiercely. but break ever so gently.

Once in a while i am struck all over again... by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enough to bruise a heart.

there are some poems that we leave behind some that leave us behind while some just live silently in the heart crumble, sometimes dwindle disappear die and are reborn when you smile again.

One clear moment, one of trance One missed step, one perfect dance One missed shot, one and only chance Life is all...but one fleeting glance.

Poems can get sleepless too and become the loneliest thing in the universe.

it was the kind of moon that I would want to send back to my ancestors and gift to my descendants so they know that I too, have been bruised...by beauty.

because some things sometimes aren't ours to hold, but just beautiful to listen to.

Not words. nor laughter. but rather someone who will fall in love with your silence.

whatever you do be gentle with yourself. you don’t just live in this world or your home or your skin. you also live in someone’s eyes.