In the storm I want my own happiness ... I live carrying my life in my hands ... you are the one whom the ocean eats ... I am the one who drinks the ocean

By wearing a tigers skin no man has become a tiger till today

Women are made out of soft clay ... they can break anytime

A foxy person will become the prey of his own foxiness

The voice of the heart is heard from the heart

But sitting on great heights a crow does not become a pigeon

Take bribe and give bribe

There are a lot of people who run behind money ... but there are a few behind whom money runs

I have seen a lot of people who cook stories ... and people who cook stories don't work ... those who have not seen the sea raising the storm ... no way they can travel in the sea

The deal that you are doing of the duty, under the delusion from the merchants of the law ... even their necks are not far away from my hand

My habits are also scoundrelly