In attaining our ideals, our means should be as pure as the end. Dr Rajendra Prasad
We owe a lot to the Indians, who taught us how to count, without which no worthwhile scientific discovery could have been made. -Albert Einstein
If yet your blood does not rage, then it is water that flows in your veins. For what is the flush of youth, if it is not of service to the motherland.-Chandra Shekhar Azad
Revolution did not necessarily involve sanguinary strife. It was not a cult of bomb and pistol. They may sometimes be mere means for its achievement. Bhagat Singh
I know where I am going and I know the truth, and I don't have to be what you want me to be. I am free to be what I want. Aruna Asaf Ali
Mother, I bow to thee! Rich with thy hurrying streams, Bright with orchard gleams, Cool with thy winds of delight, Green fields waving, Mother of might, Mother free. Glory of moonlight dreams, Over thy branches and lordly streams, Clad in thy blossoming trees, Mother, giver of ease, Laughing low and sweet! Mother I kiss thy feet, Speaker sweet and low! Mother, to thee I bow. Bankim Chandra Chaterjee
In attaining our ideals, our means should be as pure as the end. Dr Rajendra Prasad
We owe a lot to the Indians, who taught us how to count, without which no worthwhile scientific discovery could have been made. -Albert Einstein
If yet your blood does not rage, then it is water that flows in your veins. For what is the flush of youth, if it is not of service to the motherland.-Chandra Shekhar Azad
Revolution did not necessarily involve sanguinary strife. It was not a cult of bomb and pistol. They may sometimes be mere means for its achievement. Bhagat Singh
I know where I am going and I know the truth, and I don't have to be what you want me to be. I am free to be what I want. Aruna Asaf Ali
Mother, I bow to thee! Rich with thy hurrying streams, Bright with orchard gleams, Cool with thy winds of delight, Green fields waving, Mother of might, Mother free. Glory of moonlight dreams, Over thy branches and lordly streams, Clad in thy blossoming trees, Mother, giver of ease, Laughing low and sweet! Mother I kiss thy feet, Speaker sweet and low! Mother, to thee I bow. Bankim Chandra Chaterjee