Allama iqbal

What avails love when life is so ephemeral?What avaiIs a mortals love for the immortal?Love that is snuffed out by deaths passing blastLove without the pain, the passion that consumes?A flickering spark I am, aglow for a fleeting glanceFlow vain for a flickering spark to chase an eternal flame!Grant me the bliss of eternal life, O Lord,And mine will be the ecstasy of eternal love.Give me the pleasure of an everlasting painAn agony that lacerates my soul for ever.

The ultimate aim of the ego is not to see something, but to be something.

Why should I ask the wise men: Whence is my beginning? I am busy with the thought: Where will be my end?

Everything that possesses life dies if it has to live in uncongenial surroundings

If the object of poetry is, to make men, then poetry is the heir of prophecy.