She is the girl from the Rainbows,with Twinie eyes and Silky hair...She is short, she is Cute, Her Smile will put you on mute...She is Quick, she is Fast, she is Witty,As Sweet as Kitty...She Speaks less, but Talks more.Dumb for many, Wisdom for few...You can never See her, but you can Feel her.Many people know her, but only few can Understand her..She behaves like Mr. Bean,But deep inside she is a Sarcasm queen..She is Powerful, she is Confident, a born Leader,Always listens to all my Blabber... XDShe is wonderful, she is Beautiful,In short a Sweet little fool..If you want to make her Happy, get her a cup of Tea,If you want to see her Smile, gift her a Book,If you want to Impress her, don't do anything, just be the Way you are !She is Complicated and yet Simple,How can one ignore her Dimple !?,She is Crazy, she is Mad,She is my Angel,Angel from the Skies, through the Rainbows, into my Life....She is my girl.....from the Rainbows.

سبق لي أن قُلْتُ آنفاً إن الاستعارات خطيرة وإن الحب يبدأ من استعارة. وبكلمة أُخرى: الحب يبدأ في اللحظة التي تسجَّل فيها امرأة دخولها في ذاكرتنا الشعرية من خلال عبارة.

I love bookshelves, and stacks of books, spines, typography, and the feel of pages between my fingertips. I love bookmarks, and old bindings, and stars in margins next to beautiful passages. I love exuberant underlinings that recall to me a swoon of language-love from a long-ago reading, something I hoped to remember. I love book plates, and inscriptions in gifts from loved ones, I love author signatures, and I love books sitting around reminding me of them, being present in my life, being. I love books. Not just for what they contain. I love them as objects too, as ever-present reminders of what they contain, and because they are beautiful. They are one of my favorite things in life, really at the tiptop of the list, easily my favorite inanimate things in existence, and ... I am just not cottoning on to this idea of making them ... not exist anymore. Making them cease to take up space in the world, in my life? No, please do not take away the physical reality of my books.

When you drop a glass or a plate to the ground it makes a loud crashing sound. When a window shatters a table leg breaks or when a picture falls off the wall it makes a noise. But as for your heart when that breaks it s completely silent. You would think as it s so important it would make the loudest noise in the whole world or even have some ... Read Moresort of ceremonious sound like the gong of a cymbal or the ringing of a bell. But it s silent and you almost wish there was a noise to distract you from the pain. If there is a noise it s internal. It screams and no one can hear it but you. It screams so loud your ears ring and your head aches. It trashes around in your chest like a great white shark caught in the sea it roars like a mother bear whose cub has been taken. That s what it looks like and that s what it sounds like a trashing panicking trapped great big beast roaring like a prisoner to its own emotions. But that s the thing about love no one is untouchable.

ثم قال «لا أعرف حقاً ما إذا كان هذا المقال قد ساعد أحداً ما. ولكني خلال عملي كجرّاح أنقذت حياة أناس كثيرين».ساد صمت جديد ثم قطعه قائلاً: «الأفكار أيضاً يمكنها أن تنقذ الحياة».

فشعر عندها فجأة برغبة غامضة لا تقاوم في سماع موسيقى هائلة، في سماع ضجيج مطلق وصخب جميل وفرح يكتنف كل شيء ويُغرق ويخنق كل شيء، فيختفي إلى الأبد الألم والغرور وتفاهة الكلمات.

All they told me was that he was forty-two when he died. I just wanted...to find out more about what kind of person he was.I could tell you more, amanda thought to herself. A lot more. She'd suspected the truth since Morgan Tanner had called, and she'd made some calls to confirm her suspicions. Dawson, she'd learned, had been taking off life support at CarolinaEast Regional Medical Center late Monday night. He's been kept alive long after doctors knew he would never recover, because he was an organ donor.Dawson, she knews, had saved Alan's life-but in the end, he'd saved Jared's as well. And for that meant...everything. I gave you the best of me, he'd told her once, and with every beat of her son's heart, she knew he'd done exactly that. How about a quick hug," she said, "before we go inside?" Jared rolled his eyes, but he opened his arms anyway. "I love you, Mom," he mumbled, pulling her close. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm in his chest. "I love you, too.

It's commonplace to say that we 'love' a book, but when we say it, we mean all sorts of things. Sometimes we mean that a book was important to us in out youth, though we haven't picked it up in years; sometimes what we 'love' is an impressionistic idea glimpsed from afar (Combray...madeleins...Tante Leonie...) as apposed to the experience of wallowing and plowing through an actual text, and all too often people claim to love books they haven't read at all. Then there are books we love so much that we read every year or two, and know passages of them by heart; that cheer us up when we are sick or sad and never fail to amuse us when we take them up at random; that we pass on to all our friends and acquaintances; and to which we return again and again with undimmed enthusiasm over the course of a lifetime. I think it goes without saying ghat most books that engage readers on this very high levels are masterpieces; and this is why I believe that True Grit by Charles Portis is a masterpiece.

إذا كان الهياج الجنسي آلية يتسلى بها الخالق، فإن الحب، خلافاً لذلك لا ينتمي إلا إلينا ويمكننا من خلاله الإفلات من قبضة الخالق. فالحب هو حريتنا. الحب هو ما وراء كل «ما ليس منه بد».

قالت: «توماس، لم أعد أقدر. أعرف أن لا حقّ لي في التشكي. مذ رجعت إلى براغ وأنا أحظّر على نفسي الغيرة. لا أريد أن أكون غيورة. ولكني لا أستطيع أن أمنع نفسي عن ذلك. لا قدرة لي. ساعدني، أرجوك».

मेरी उम्मीद का सागर कुछ यूँ छूटा है......................................कि हर ज़र्रे-ज़र्रे ने हमको लूटा है.............................................कश्तियाँ सारी डूब गयी किनारों तक आते-आते........................होसला जो कुछ भी बचा था तूफानों में, किनारों पर आकर टूटा है

عندما هدأ صراخها، نامت قرب توماس وأمسكت بيده طوال الليل.منذ كانت في الثامنة وهي تغفو جامعة يديها ومتخيلة أنها تمسك الرجل الذي تحبه، رجل حياتها. كان مفهوماً إذاً أن تشد بهذا العزم على يد توماس.

I guess if there’s one thing I can say about the 21st century, it’s that the 21st century is all flash and no substance… everything is digital, nothing but files of invisible electronic data on computers and mindless zombies on their cellular phones… it’s sad how because of the digital age, society is ultimately doomed. Nothing in the digital age is real anymore, and you know, they say celluloid film and ray tube televisions and maybe even paper might become obsolete in this century? …What’s most annoying is that nobody cares, they’ve just learned to accept the digital age and get addicted to it… none of them are ever going to step up and say to the world, “you’re all a bunch of sheep!” and even if they did say anything, I doubt anyone would listen… they’re all too obsessed and attached to their cellular phones and overly big televisions and whatever other moronic things they’ve got these days… it almost makes me want an apocalypse to happen, to erase digital technology and force the world to start over again.

تذكر عندها أسطورة أفلاطون الشهيرة «المأدبة»: ففي السابق كان البشر مزدوجي الجنس فقسّمهم الله إلى أنصاف تهيم عبر العالم مفتشة بعضها عن بعض. الحب هو تلك الرغبة في إيجاد النصف الآخر المفقود من أنفسنا.

नील कण्ठ वाहनम् द्विषद् भुजम् किरीटिनं लोल रत्न कुण्डल प्रभा अभिराम षण्मुखम् ।शूल शक्ति दण्ड कुक्कुट अक्ष मालिका धरं बालम् ईश्वरम् कुमारशैल वासिनम् भजे ॥१I worship the young god who dwells on Kumarasaila surely, Whose vehicle is the peacock, has twice six arms to see, Wears a crown, whose six faces glow by gem ear pieces clearly,Who holds a trident, a missile, a staff, a cock and a rosary. 1