Popular Posts
-
Are we really that shallow and superficial? Or is the result of forgetfulness and the passing of time? It could be the latter, because som...
-
It‘s funny how some people like to state the obvious. Here’s an incident: Evening time, you just left from work. It’s raining cats and ...
-
Turning 23 is not a big deal, says my wise friend. So I explain to him how when you are 22 you are closer to 21 so random acts of craziness...
-
I don’t pray. I don’t ask for anything from Him. Because I think He already knows what I want. And if He wants me to have it, He will giv...
-
I can't imagine a world where I don't exist. How to! When the world revolves around me. Once I leave, everything will get lost, ...
-
It wasn't a dark and stormy night. Quite the opposite actually. The moon shone silver on the world below. And the gods looked on with wo...
-
According to John Galt, selfishness is both moral and practical. Explain what he means by this and how events of the story illustrate and dr...
-
My train passed over the bridge slowly. And I saw the water sparkling below. I saw the sun in every wave of the green waters. And on looking...
-
As soon as I reached the class I saw Kabir get up from his seat and come towards me. His eyes were red and swollen. Could he be drunk, I tho...
-
I read a review of this book, a month back, in the newspaper somewhere. I cannot recollect even a bit about what the critic had to say. Th...
1 comments:
superb one yaar! As Sanaa told me yesterday, some of your writings are "Deep".. LoL.. this one categorizes in one of those too!
It's funny how most people love the dead, once you're dead your made for life...!
When I was a boy, the Dead Sea was only sick. See how famous it is now!
So am kinda looking forward to it!! :P
one of my favourite poems frm school days is "Death Be Not Proud" by John Donne.. just thought of sharing it with you...
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
:-D
Post a Comment