We plan for months and years, nothing materializes. Then, one sudden moment, no plans, and everything falls in place.

That is it ; no plan materializes, and so much spontaneity - life in a nutshell.

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Nothing can set us apart, not even death. In death, we are left with something valuable - grief.

To grieve, we have to love. A well loved life, is a well lived and well grieved one.

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If you are rich, buy time. If you aren't, save time.

Spend your time wisely, on meaningful things. It is limited for everyone, and can't be created.

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Today's love is tomorrow's grief for it escapes us.

We nurture it to be destroyed by it.

The seed of grief will sweep us away once the plant blossoms.

This is life - a cycle of love turned into grief.

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Raining since morning - watering the cracks on the soil outside and wounds on the hearts inside.

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It rains both inside and outside.

They see the rain outside, I see the inside.

Outside, the umbrella protects. Inside i am at its mercy.

Outside it drenches the world, inside me only. God, save us from both the rains, and the ruins.

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I want to write and scream betrayal on every wall and street, but the world will suspect you.

They will ask me about the words and sacred vows in my closet.

My closet holds the vows of loyalty, but the air around reeks of betrayal.

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Between the noise of the rich dad and the poor dad,
she kept waiting for his never to return dad.

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Maybe success is someday writing two lines people long to read again and again. everything will make sense then. keep writing.

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Someday we will be a story,
like the ones before and after us.

to be read,
to be passed on,
to be looked at,
to be understood,
to make sense of us,
to be felt.

make sure to be a story worth telling
- possibly many times, again and again.

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