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Shree Nanda

@Mrs_Darcy_Shree

Sparkler

+ 7

Posted: 12 years ago

#921

do pagal scc mein

raat mein ya dopeher mein

aabodana

dhoondein spamming ka bahana

haan bahana😆

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Sara

@BarunSara

Voyager

Posted: 12 years ago

#922

Pagalpan bhi zarori hey yaar! Ting ting tiiing ting

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Shree Nanda

@Mrs_Darcy_Shree

Sparkler

+ 7

Posted: 12 years ago

#923

sara ipkknd word game khelte hain

main start karti hoon

a- arnavji

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Sara

@BarunSara

Voyager

Posted: 12 years ago

#924

Oye raju pyaar na kariyo kariyo dil toot jata hey!
Sirf raju hi pyaar nehi karsakta hey! Hum toh karsakte hey na?? Thank gawd!

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Sara

@BarunSara

Voyager

Posted: 12 years ago

#925

WHAT R U DOING??
But u were sleeping!"

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Sara

@BarunSara

Voyager

Posted: 12 years ago

#926

Didu i vl ryt bck afta 20 mins!
Ma kasam apun aaj yeh thread idharich khatam kar dalega mein.

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Shree Nanda

@Mrs_Darcy_Shree

Sparkler

+ 7

Posted: 12 years ago

#927

a thing of beauty is joy forever

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Shree Nanda

@Mrs_Darcy_Shree

Sparkler

+ 7

Posted: 12 years ago

#928

William Shakespeare - Sonnet #18

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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Shree Nanda

@Mrs_Darcy_Shree

Sparkler

+ 7

Posted: 12 years ago

#929

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more, death, thou shalt die.

- John Donne