Omar Khayyam

Poet

1048-05-18

Quotes by Omar Khayyam

• The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.

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• The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.

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• Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again.

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• There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.

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• You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; favored old barren reason from my bed, and took the daughter of the vine to spouse.

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• Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

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• A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.

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• The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.

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• Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.

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• Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

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• Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.

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• Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!

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• Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too.

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• The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

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• Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

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• I wonder often what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell.

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• Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

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• If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?

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• The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

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• And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help-for it As impotently moves as you or I

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