I can’t reveal the mystery to either saint or sinner; I can’t state at length what I’ve said curtly; I achieve an altered state that I can’t explain; I have a secret that I cannot share.
OMAR KHAYYAMThe rose that once has bloomed forever dies.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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We are in truth but pieces on this chess board of life, which in the end we leave, only to drop one by one into the grave of nothingness.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I wonder what the vintners buy one half so precious as the stuff they sell.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Here’s to the man Who owns the land That bears the grapes That makes the wine That tastes as good As this does.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
A hair divides what is false and true.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
So when that Angel of the darker Drink, at last shall find you by the river-brink, And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul forth to your Lips to quaff-you shall not shrink.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
We are thinking about bad only those who are worse than we are, and those who are better than us … I’m just not up to us … One does not follow it than smell roses. Another of the bitter herbs will produce honey. Give bread to one – will remember forever. Another life donation – do not understand.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev’n with Paradise devise the snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blackened – Man’s forgiveness give and take!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
By Fate full many a heart has been undone, And many a sprightly rose made woe-begone; Plume thee not on thy lusty youth and strength: Full many a bud is blasted ere its bloom.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Fools, your reward is neither here nor there.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return’d to me, And answer’d: ‘I Myself am Heav’n and Hell.
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 -
Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.
OMAR KHAYYAM






