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 KHAYYAMHow sad, a heart that does not know how to love, that does not know what it is to be drunk with love. If you are not in love, how can you enjoy the blinding light of the sun, the soft light of the moon?
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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If I don’t enjoy myself now, when shall I?
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
This 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.
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 -
The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Drink! for you know not when you came, nor why; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Oh, the brave Music of a distant drum!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
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 -
Thy Return is as another Sun to Heaven; a new Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
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 -
As far as you can avoid it, do not give grief to anyone. Never inflict your rage on another. If you hope for eternal rest, feel the pain yourself; but don’t hurt others.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
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.
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