Wednesday, December 19, 2007

These Intoxicating Eyes

Ek sirf humhi mai ko
Aankhon se pilaatein hain....

(It's only I who can make people/you drink alcohol through the eyes)


Kehne ko to duniya mein
Mai-khaane hazaaron hain....

(For the sake of saying it, there are many establishments for alcohol in the world..)


Translation is murder. But this is for Divi, my louve. And my other conscious love, who first brought these brilliant lines to my attention, and seduced me with not just her eyes :)
You Are a Snarky Blogger!

You've got a razor sharp wit that bloggers are secretly scared of.
And that's why they read your posts as often as they can!

Sunday, December 16, 2007

The White Queen: Can you do addition? What's one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one and one?

Alice: I don't know. I lost count.

I thought I was good at math. Somewhere along the way, I lost count too. Of what, though?



The Duchess: Be what you would seem to be -- or, if you'd like it put more simply -- Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.

Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall..



Alice: But I don't want to go among mad people.
The Cat: Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.
Alice: How do you know I'm mad?
The Cat: You must be. Or you wouldn't have come here.









This is crap. Don't look for a thread of reason. There isn't one.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Ask him to find me an acre of land,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Between the salt water and the sea-strand,
For then he'll be a true love of mine.


Ask him to plough it with a lamb's horn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
And sow it all over with one peppercorn,
For then he'll be a true love of mine.


Ask him to reap it with a sickle of leather,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
And gather it up with a rope made of heather,
For then he'll be a true love of mine.


When he has done and finished his work,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Ask him to come for his cambric shirt,
For then he'll be a true love of mine.


If you say that you can't, then I shall reply,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
Oh, Let me know that at least you will try,
Or you'll never be a true love of mine.


Love imposes impossible tasks,
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,
But none more than any heart would ask,
I must know you're a true love of mine.



If you're listening, please come. I'm tired. Very close to losing heart. Not to mention bored. Please.