Disease : Romantic : Suffer

 Belief to this extent is, on the possibility In the deserts, the seeds would sow
امکان پہ اس قدر یقیں ہے صحراؤں میں بیج ڈال آؤں

Ahmad Nadeem Qasmi

May all the tears of hearts are sewn, some such do the work, Wali
سب چاک دلوں کے سل جائیں کوئی ایسا کام کرو والیؔ

Wali Aasi

Thirst : Rain : Thirst

The silver which is, the gold that is That is all of this child  That is yours, that is mine  This child, whose child is this  This child, of all, is the child!
جو چاندی ہے جو سونا ہے
 وہ سارا ہے اس بچے ک
ا جو تیرا ہے جو میرا ہے
 یہ بچہ کس کا بچہ ہے
 یہ بچہ سب کا بچہ ہے!

Ibn-e-Insha

Human : Native : Expatriate

This is life’s wake-up call; misery, suffering, loss, death. This is where people are forced to get real and where understanding can occur. They think I can help, and maybe I can, but not the way they think. I’m not a counselor or a mentor. I’m not interested in helping anyone feel better. I’m no one’s friend. I dwell in an infinite pitiless void. Or, to state it more accurately, I am an infinite pitiless void. That’s my reality. I’m not a nice guy, I just play one.

People sometimes come to me…to show me something that they say is wrong and needs fixing. I am immediately in conflict with such a person. I do not and cannot share the view that something is wrong and needs fixing. No matter how absolutely certain someone might be that something is wrong, and no matter how terribly wrong it may appear, I am absolutely, unshakably certain it’s not. I am incapable of perceiving error. I reside in a perfect universe where nothing can ever be wrong. We all do, I just happen to know it.

Jed McKenna