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 oscar wilde's short stories

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acre

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PostSubject: oscar wilde's short stories    Thu Apr 21, 2011 2:16 pm



The Nightingale and the Rose

'She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,' cried the young Student; 'but in all my garden there is no red rose.'

From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

'No red rose in all my garden!' he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. 'Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.'

'Here at last is a true lover,' said the Nightingale. 'Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his lace like pale Ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.'

'The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night,' murmured the young Student, 'and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break.'

'Here indeed is the true lover,' said the Nightingale. 'What I sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. it may not be purchased of the merchants, 'or can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.'


'The musicians will sit in their gallery,' said the young Student, 'and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her;' and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

'Why is he weeping?' asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

'Why, indeed?' said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

'Why, indeed?' whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

'He is weeping for a red rose,' said the Nightingale.

'For a red rose!' they cried; 'how very ridiculous!' and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it, she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

'Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'

But the Tree shook its head.

'My roses are white,' it answered; 'as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.'


So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial.

'Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'

But the Tree shook its head.

'My roses are yellow,' it answered; 'as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.'

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student's window.

'Give me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'

But the Tree shook its head.

'My roses are red,' it answered, 'as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.'

'One red rose is all I want,' cried the Nightingale, 'only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?'

'There is a way,' answered the Tree; 'but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.'

'Tell it to me,' said the Nightingale, 'I am not afraid.'

'If you want a red rose,' said the Tree, 'you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.'


'Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,' cried the Nightingale, 'and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?'

So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

'Be happy,' cried the Nightingale, 'be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.'

The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.

'Sing me one last song,' he whispered; 'I shall feel very lonely when you are gone.'

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.


When she had finished her song the Student got lip, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

'She has form,' he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove - 'that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good.' And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Yale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river - pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. 'Press closer, little Nightingale,' cried the Tree, 'or the Day will come before the rose is finished.'

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.


And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose's heart remained white, for only a Nightingale's heart's-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. 'Press closer, little Nightingale,' cried the Tree, 'or the Day will come before the rose is finished.'

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

But the Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

'Look, look!' cried the Tree, 'the rose is finished now;' but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.


'Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! he cried; 'here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name;' and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor's house with the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

'You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose,' cried the Student. Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you.'

But the girl frowned.

'I am afraid it will not go with my dress,' she answered; 'and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.'

'Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,' said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it.

'Ungrateful!' said the girl. 'I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I don't believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain's nephew has;' and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

'What a silly thing Love is,' said the Student as he walked away. 'It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.'


So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read



The Nightingale and the Rose is strictly under the copy right of its author Oscar Wilde.
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carpe-diem

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PostSubject: hmmmmmmm   Thu Apr 21, 2011 4:32 pm

why did you post this particular work by Mr. Wilde?



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PostSubject: Good Job Shikhar   Thu Apr 21, 2011 7:00 pm

Shikhar Thanks for opening this thread . Very good job .
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PostSubject: This is true   Thu Apr 21, 2011 9:16 pm

'What a silly thing Love is,' said the Student as he walked away. 'It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.'




Oh Shikhar what a touching story . Many Many thanks for making us read it .

Love can be painful . Some believe that its better to love and die instead of not loving At all , but I wonder .

What r ur thoughts Shayar ?
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PostSubject: :(   Thu Apr 21, 2011 10:13 pm

I remember when I read it for the first time I was quite small and was shocked at the ending, but now I'm glad it ended this way instead of just another happy love story, Its a most realistic story, applicable even today where the nature of people and 'love' is highlighted.
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PostSubject: its quite real   Fri Apr 22, 2011 9:21 am

carpe-diem wrote:
why did you post this particular work by Mr. Wilde?


hi casper,
the reason i have posted this particular story of oscar wilde,
when i have read that story u wont believe it but its quite similar to my life lol!
& btw i m huge fan of oscar wilde so i have post his unromantic story Smile


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PostSubject: Does Wilde say love doesn't exist ?   Fri Apr 22, 2011 4:44 pm

Does Wilde say that LOVe doesn't exist , that it is a fickle emotion , like a bubble that humans experience ?

If so that is a profound declaration , one that needs to be turned over in the mind .

But Shikhar ........this much I tell u . Just coz one girl tramples the feelings of a man's heart and walks away from his life , doesn't mean its the end of the world . Love is such a KOMAL BHAVNA that not many know how to value it . They r totally in love with THEMSELVES . Call it Majboori , disinterest on her part , anything , the fact is she has no time for the boy's most precious , komal feeling . So fine . Let her go . The life is so vast , such a sea of gems that one will shine eventually and fall in the boys palm . NOBODY is indispensable , moving on is life . This is what God wants us to learn .
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PostSubject: Shikar ,Nice Job and a Nice one though painful it is :(   Fri Apr 22, 2011 5:24 pm

Hi Shikar,
Nice job yaar. Thanks for the story.

Nice story that has stung the Hearts with the painful sacrifice of a lovely bird for an unworthy love.
Though painful it is ,it had the practicality too when these days are compared where more materialistic it has become.

Having a feeling for a person more than affection and loving them a lot whoever it may be, any relation, it involves pain. But it has not only pain, a lots of Pleasure accompanies too.

Just because the story is about an unworthy love, for me Love doesn't seems unworthy or painful alone. All kind of love exists,such unworthy too.
Whatever happens, wish to believe that it is for good ,that God has a still more better for me in store.
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PostSubject: wilde always believe in love   Fri Apr 22, 2011 5:36 pm

hi kool di,

if wilde doesn't believe in love so how can he write such romantic short stories,
but his genre is little bit different than the authors he mostly focus on the heart break part of the love,
some girl has also breaks his heart otherwise he doesn't produce such amount of emotions in his work,


somewhere around i have also feel that i m not that strong otherwise i will definitely move ahead in my life,
the biggest regret of my life is that why i have become shayar badnaam after that incident,
reason is quite simple becoz that incident has totally changes my life,


but still i haven't believe in this phenomena that love doesn't exists in this world,

its the most divine creation of god,
if anybody has acquired by love onething is sure he is the luckiest person in this world,

i hope someday god will complete my love story,

becoz true love will remain never incomplete it has to be complete one day,

thanks kool di for ur motivation,
i m quite lucky to have u as my sister,
u r the best sister in the world,


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PostSubject: No Shikhar dear   Fri Apr 22, 2011 6:20 pm

No dear Shikhar , ur heart is too tender and komal . Do not let it hurt u to this extent . I understand the pain , i really do . But Trust me , it will heal . Time is best medicene . The onlything u must promise me u won't do anything drastic if the pain gets unbearable. WAQT SABKA MARHAM HOTA HAI . Before getting involved again , take some time , rest . U have family na ? Think of Mom , or Dad .......someone who loves u a lotttt . Aapki zindagi phir se khushiyon se bhar jayegi . Trust me dear . U can always pm me if u ever need to talk . Is Dard par dhyan mat do , woh zakham bhar jayegi . Har zakham bhar jaati hai . God's name .......if ur a believer , is the BEST marham . Sukoon milega . Focus on him .
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PostSubject: Re: oscar wilde's short stories    Sat Apr 23, 2011 2:28 am

i have always found this story heartbreaking and endearing at the same time..unfortunately many go thru this trial very often..shikhar (i hope i can call u tht),i will share sumthng wid u..wen i was growing up,i was surrounded by pretty,smart and outgoing friends..most of my friends were warding off guys fawning all over thm and i on the other hand stood out like a sore thumb coz of lacking atleast the pretty asset..the guy i was crazy abt was crazy abt my best friend and i was the cliched "friend of the girl"..i got over it,moved to college..there went thru almost the same scenario again,the diff being the guy whom i genuinely thought of as a very good friend hung arnd wid me to get close to my roomy..finally,i had dumped all guys in the mental pit of pig ,tho a part of me still yearned for love..my roomy was the one who advised me to start looking for happiness within..and irony is tht the day i finally achieved tht peace of mind,and stopped needing the sheer romance,a couple days later i found out tht frm a friend ther was this guy who was in love wid me and always found it hard to even come up and talk to me..i found it difficult to believe and dint pay attention to it..further,he and i became co-secretaries for the college council..we became friends,started talking to each other..slowly we reached a point where ther was respect and affection..we started seeing each other,tho i initially had the nagging doubt tht i liked him coz he is the first guy who noticed me..fought wid my feelings for quite sum time coz i really really dint want to hurt him,and in the process ended up hurting him a lot..muddled thru it and now 6 yrs later,i KNOW he may not be perfect,neither am i perfect (am far frm it) bt we FIT wid each other..
what i want to say thru this boring story of mine is tht life throws the craziest things at u,wen u least expect it..if i had met my beau wen i was in the crazy phase i wud have been a very clingy girl,needing reassurance at every step..we got together wen we were both ready..a partner is to not complete our world,bt to make us realise the completeness we have within ourselves..and am sure life has sumthng great waiting for u..it just likes making us sweat for it..
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PostSubject: Very well said Anu   Sat Apr 23, 2011 10:00 am

Very well said Anu . I see heaart breaks and heart breaks and I see how individuals react to it . They WRECK their lives for one girl or one boyfriend . They make their life about IT all only ! It isn't ! Life is NOT about one boyfriend or one girlfriend , its a journey to explore ! And here I mean , exploring ur inner self !

Since this story of Wilde is about heartbreak I wud like to say something about dealing with heartbreaks .

Cry your heart out in solitude .

Rub ur eyes after every tear is spent and think of those who love u but have NOT left u . Those who were there in ur life before the girl came along and who r STILL there , patiently by ur side , STILL loving u . They may be parents , or a sibling ur particularly close to , or friends , ANYONE . Wanting to DIE or STOP LIVING LIFE for that girl or boy u met only one year before is an INSULT to the real love of those who did NOT leave u .

If u r a believer in God , Khudah ........take his name . Pray to him , dwell on him , it gives u strength .

CUt off all memories of the girl just like Aditya did in JAB WE MET . If memories of her or him give u PAIN , DARD , no point in clinging to them . Flush them down the toilet . That is actually VERY sensible . No point in 'being good friends' and pathetically hanging around , wondering how it wud have been if she or he had said yes .

If ur NOT a believer in God , still no problem . Focus on WHAT u believe in then . Ur career , a cause , a principle .........whatever . Give it ur hundred percent .

Do NOT turn to bad habits like drinking , smoking , going around with many girls just to 'show' u can still survive etc . My niece , after she broke up with her steady bf of 5 years , went on the rebound . A simple girl and only child of my brother , she started drinking , partying , and flirting with boys coz she was on 'the rebound' . I was SHOCKED to see the transformation , i received news that she wud pass out on the sofa , zonked , in parties . She has pulled out of it due to family intervention , but this is WRONG . U shud NOT go on the rebound to emulate Western society .

As the next 5 years flit by and u turn and look at the break up , u find that ur not that affected by it anymore . A twinge of nostalgia still remains but thats perfectly healthy . Later , even that goes . Life unfolds in front of u and ur journey in it appears more beautiful than one girl or boy who came in it like a musafir and left .

Remember ..........girlfriend , boyfriend , even children r NOT the end of life . Theres something MORE . Always search for it .

Anu , I don't know about those pretty girls who landed those boyfriends .But when I interact with u and read ur thoughts that u pen down in each post of urs , I find u unique , strong and special ..........with an ability to perceive things the way common girls wud not be able to . U outshine them and when u blossom more as Life races ahead , u will be even more unique .Thanks for sharing ur experience .





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PostSubject: Re: oscar wilde's short stories    Sat Apr 23, 2011 11:39 am

Shikhar, it's a touching story. Thanks for posting it. You know its something everyone goes through in life....

just keep one thing in mind a steady long term relationship is better then a sporadic one.


anu rulz wrote:
i have always found this story heartbreaking and endearing at the same time..unfortunately many go thru this trial very often..shikhar (i hope i can call u tht),i will share sumthng wid u..wen i was growing up,i was surrounded by pretty,smart and outgoing friends..most of my friends were warding off guys fawning all over thm and i on the other hand stood out like a sore thumb coz of lacking atleast the pretty asset..the guy i was crazy abt was crazy abt my best friend and i was the cliched "friend of the girl"..i got over it,moved to college..there went thru almost the same scenario again,the diff being the guy whom i genuinely thought of as a very good friend hung arnd wid me to get close to my roomy..finally,i had dumped all guys in the mental pit of pig ,tho a part of me still yearned for love..my roomy was the one who advised me to start looking for happiness within..and irony is tht the day i finally achieved tht peace of mind,and stopped needing the sheer romance,a couple days later i found out tht frm a friend ther was this guy who was in love wid me and always found it hard to even come up and talk to me..i found it difficult to believe and dint pay attention to it..further,he and i became co-secretaries for the college council..we became friends,started talking to each other..slowly we reached a point where ther was respect and affection..we started seeing each other,tho i initially had the nagging doubt tht i liked him coz he is the first guy who noticed me..fought wid my feelings for quite sum time coz i really really dint want to hurt him,and in the process ended up hurting him a lot..muddled thru it and now 6 yrs later,i KNOW he may not be perfect,neither am i perfect (am far frm it) bt we FIT wid each other..
what i want to say thru this boring story of mine is tht life throws the craziest things at u,wen u least expect it..if i had met my beau wen i was in the crazy phase i wud have been a very clingy girl,needing reassurance at every step..we got together wen we were both ready..a partner is to not complete our world,bt to make us realise the completeness we have within ourselves..and am sure life has sumthng great waiting for u..it just likes making us sweat for it..

i can commiserate with the underlined part. Sometimes the things going on in our life make us question all the more.

Question

getting back to the story. i am kinda glad the boy didn't know how the rose came about. i think the guilt would have destroyed him.
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PostSubject: love    Sat Apr 23, 2011 1:08 pm

hi kool di,anu & casper.


yes, love is the most vital part of life,,but in the end its only just a part na.
life can never be stopped for anyone,
life is a continuous process it will only finishes when u r finished,


sometimes i felt angry on myself that i have wasted almost 40 months of my life, Mad
i have tried each & every source in which i can forget my past,
but somewhere around luck doesn't favors me,
but now i promise u all that i will never & ever remember my past,


when u talk about bad habits u wont believe it but its offically true that i have never touched an alcohol nor i have ever smokes,

the only bad habit which is found inside my body that i mostly writes dard bhari shayari's
these shayari r now became my enemy but i have no option but to continue with my shayari's
becoz i m very possessive of my shayar's image after all i m mr shayar.


its always feel great that i have surrounded by bunch of good people i.e kool di,anu & casper who always motivate me by their speech,
i m sure that i have done some really good in my previous birth, thats why u all r become my friends.
life is nothing for me,its just like a journey of my story.
till then everybody take care of ur self.

btw plz listen these two inspirational song from manoj kumar''s classic movie shor



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PostSubject: Re: oscar wilde's short stories    Sun Apr 24, 2011 11:08 am

u know shikhar,the way u have chosen to deal wid ur pain is amazing..i must say it shows ur strength of character..and in psychiatry,we call it a Mature Defense mechanism called "sublimation"..u shud be proud of urself..
kools,itni acchi baatein boli aapne mere baare mein.. Embarassed I love you aww..thank you so much..feels amazing wen sum1 u respect thinks so well of u..
carpe-diem,yes,at times we get so vulnerable to hurt,we dnt even take chances which wud give us amazing happiness..
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PostSubject: One more thing Shikhar   Sun Apr 24, 2011 11:36 am

Shikhar Thank God that it was only 20 MONTHS and not 20 YEARS . Shrug it off now .

Jeevan Chalne Ka naam was EXACTLY the song I thought of when i typed my answer to u .

Its an ULTIMATE song . Btw Shikhar a music forum has been opened upon ur request I expect to see u active there .

Children , lovers , spouses ...........all leave at a certain point .What doesn't leave is ur self development . So concentrate on that and all other things will fall in place .
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PostSubject: Re: oscar wilde's short stories    Fri Apr 29, 2011 9:13 am

Love does exist I feel, but not everyone is worthy of it.

Love is simple, and that is how if is different from the imaginations of the fascinated! Love is patience, it is pure, and it is worship ... like the first ray of the sun in the dawn ... it comes down at a time when only the most sincere is around, and it touches those who are there for it under the sky ... but the is felt by them who can sense the changes ... and it remains with those who devote themselves to consistency and care.

Love is not lust ... neither is emotion a form of attraction ... nor is devotion a form or desire. Love is often mistaken by those who want ... but love is beyond just the want, it is that which gives life through its fusion! It is what happens, and it is what makes happen! ... it is a creation and also the only most purest sign of the existence of Creator too ...

It is not through a rose ... but roses get their fame through it. It is not through a kiss, but kisses become meaningful through it ... although we do not touch or shape this phenomena ... but all meaningful touches and shapes are born through it!

I am in particular a huge fan of Leo Tolstoy (the Russian writer, poet and philosopher). Also a few Polish Authors (not many) ... but Oscar Wilde, I read one of his book!

Thank you for this most wonderful excerpt from one of his works!
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