He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.
OMAR KHAYYAMThis clay, so strong of heart, of sense so fine, Surely such clay is more than half divine–‘Tis only fools speak evil of the clay, The very stars are made of clay like mine.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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I came like Water, and like Wind I go.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The unbeliever knows his Koran best.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The Revelations of Devout and Learn’d Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn’d, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep They told their comrades, and to Sleep return’d.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
For in and out, above, about, below, ‘Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
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.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long, have done my credit in this World much wrong; have drowned my Glory in a shallow Cup, and sold my Reputation for a Song.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Justice is the soul of the universe.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Hearts are like tapers, which at beauteous eyes Kindle a flame of love that never dies; And beauty is a flame, where hearts, like moths, Offer themselves a burning sacrifice.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel’d by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly-and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
OMAR KHAYYAM






