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Frankenstein said:
London_Girl said:
Frankenstein said:
London_Girl said:
F- word is, surely, an offensive word, but human nature, aaah .. can't get rid of bad habbits na!..
dude,,u gotta really open up yer windows,,using F-word aint really a bad habbit,,atleast when yer not usin it in the bad manner,,:p,n thts the one reason i like orkut the most,,ppl there are not so conservative,,
nope.. am not so conservative either, buddy! but i was jus' sending message to those who do actually use this word in a bad menner!.. not pointing out a particular u know
yeah,,right,,so we have an understandin tht using the f word as an intensifier aint a bad thing..??
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nina said:
Falak mein sitaaron ki kuch kami nahin Dil mein mere armaanon ki kuch kami nahin Mere dil kay rah guzar, mere dil kay malik Tujh par qurbaan mere pyar ki kuch kami nahin
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A Last Word
LET us go hence: the night is now at hand; The day is overworn, the birds all flown; And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land, Broods like an owl; we cannot understand Laughter or tears, for we have only known Surpassing vanity: vain things alone Have driven our perverse and aimless band. Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold, To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust Find end of labour, where's rest for the old, Freedom to all from love and fear and lust. Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.
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Jadis
EREWHILE, before the world was old, When violets grew and celandine, In Cupid's train we were enrolled: Erewhile! Your little hands were clasped in mine, Your head all ruddy and sun-gold Lay on my breast which was your shrine, And all the tale of love was told: Ah, God, that sweet things should decline, And fires fade out which were not cold, Erewhile.
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Beyond
LOVE'S aftermath! I think the time is now That we must gather in, alone, apart The saddest crop of all the crops that grow, Love's aftermath. Ah, sweet,--sweet yesterday, the tears that start Can not put back the dial; this is, I trow, Our harvesting! Thy kisses chill my heart, Our lips are cold; averted eyes avow The twilight of poor love: we can but part, Dumbly and sadly, reaping as we sow, Love's aftermath.
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WHO is this mortal Who ventures to-night To woo an immortal, Cold, cold the moon's light For sleep at this portal, Bold lover of night. Fair is the mortal In soft, silken white, Who seeks an immortal. Ah, lover of night, Be warned at the portal, And save thee in flight!
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THIS libation, Cupid, take, With the lilies at thy feet; Cherish Pierrot for their sake Send him visions strange and sweet, While he slumbers at thy feet. Only love kiss him awake! Only love kiss him awake