Give me the artist who breathes it like a native, and goes about his work in it as quietly as a common man goes about his ordinary business. Mozart did so; and that is why I like him. Even if I did not, I should pretend to; for a taste in his music is a mark of caste among musicians, and should be worn, like a tall hat, by the amateur who wishes to pass for a true Brahmin.
Jab Teri Yaad Se Gaafil Ho Jayenge
Dekh Lena Zameen Odh Ke So Jayenge
Kuch Bhi Ho Maine Chaha Hai Tujh Ko Dil Se
Tujh Se Bichhde To Hum Sehra Mein Kho Jayenge…
The artist draws a picture of a rose very nicely with all attention and artistic sense, and yet it does not become as perfect as the real rose. If that is the real fact, how can we say that the real rose has taken its shape without Intelligence behind the beauty?
Zindagi me 2 minute koi mere paas na betha,
Aaj sab mere paas bethe ja rahe the,
Koi tohfa na mila aj tak mujhe _
or aj phool hi phool diye ja rahe thhe
Taras gaye ham kisi k 1 hath k liye,
Or aaj kandhe pe kandhe diye ja rahe thhe.
Do kadam sath na chalne ko taiyartha koi,
Aur aaj kafila ban sath chale ja rahe the,
Aaj pata chala mujhe k "MAUT" kitni hasin hoti he
Kambakht .....
Hum to yuhi zindgi jiye ja rahe thhe.
SKT
Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to faith beyond the forms of faith; She reels not at the storm of warring words; She brightens at the clash of "Yes" and "No"; She sees the best that glimmers through the worst; She feels the sun is hid for the night; She spies the summer through the winter bud; She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls; She hears the lark within the songless egg; She finds the fountain where they wailed "Mirage!"
All the interests of my reason, speculative as well as practical, combine in the three following questions: 1. What can I know? 2. What ought I to do? 3. What may I hope?