جُــوجُــو (نـــاول)
نصیر احمد احمدي
څوارلس کلن هلک تندې واخيست، لاس يې وتپاوه، تشه درۍ وه، سترګې يې رڼې کړې، کېناست، له کړکۍ څخه د سپوږمۍ راوتلې رڼا پر بدنۍ لګېدله. هلک اوبه وڅښلې، بېرته اوږد وغځېد، کړپ شو، تړلې بسترې ته يې وکتل، سترګې يې رډې راوختې، خوله يې چيغې ته خلاصه کړه، نه کېده، زبون يې وهل شوی و. پر لاسونو يې زور راووست، د ولاړېدو سېکه يې ختلې وه. تر څنګ يې بسترې ته وکتل، هېڅ هم نه و، يو دم ولاړ شو، په کلا کې زوروره ناره راوګرځېده! _ادې
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| Language: | پښتو |
| Category: | Novels and Shortstories |
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| File Size: | 1.82 MB |
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Sabir Wafa
3 years ago
When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
I would never read a book if it were possible for me to talk half an hour with the man who wrote it.
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book.
Read the best books first, or you may not have a chance to read them at all.
I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.
I love money. I love everything about it. I bought some pretty good stuff. Got me a $300 pair of socks. Got a fur sink. An electric dog polisher. A gasoline powered turtleneck sweater. And, of course, I bought some dumb stuff, too.
Beware of little expenses. A small leak will sink a great ship.
Men do not understand books until they have a certain amount of life, or at any rate no man understands a deep book, until he has seen and lived at least part of its contents.
