وَتُعِزُّ مَن تَشَآءُ وَتُذِلُّ مَن تَشَآءُ ۖ

Dear October, please be good to me.

If you don't understand why someone has been grieving so much for so long, then consider yourself fortunate that you do not understand.

-Joanne Cacciatore

― David Foster Wallace, Consider the Lobster and Other Essays

I wrote something.

And made my friend sing it.

And well, here it is.

The lyrics go:

Akhan mila ke akhan us da bana de mainu

Make our eyes meet, and make me hers

Khud nu zameen te te usnu arshan te rakha

I promise i'll be on the ground and keep her in the sky

Usnu meri jaan te usda bana de mainu

Make her my life my soul and make me her's

Nahi kuch karna te likhna sikhade mainu

And if you won't do anything, then just make me a poet

Mannya mai mainu eh mohabbatan da vall ni

I know, i'm not "experienced" and an "expert" in love

Meriyan ibadatan di usnu khabar ni

But she doesn't know or understand my devotion

Sidhi jahi gall e rabba os da bana de mainu

Look, God, I'm telling you, just make me her's.

Nahi kuch karna te likhna sikhade

And if you can't just make me a poet, then.

“I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn’t already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race-that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.”

literature posters; the book thief by markus zusak

who cares, do better, move on

Always continue to better yourself and don’t wish bad upon others

Girl with a pomegranate (detail), 1875 oil on canvas William-Adolphe Bouguereau