I looked into his sandy brown eyes, at one with the hair. At the business- like outward presentation of the man who daily printed sneers, innuendo, distrust and spite and spoke without showing a trace of them. 'Off the record,' I said,'bash his face in'.

I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity.

The past cannot remember the past. The future can’t generate the future.

Your love for me was like rain in the desert, 
It never flooded my away

Written By Sahil

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