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.
OMAR KHAYYAMYou 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.
OMAR KHAYYAMIf I don’t enjoy myself now, when shall I?
OMAR KHAYYAMThe Flower that once has blown forever dies.
OMAR KHAYYAMHeaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.
OMAR KHAYYAMIn monasteries, seminaries, retreats and synagogues, they fear hell and seek paradise. Those who know the mysteries of God never let that seed be planted in their souls.
OMAR KHAYYAMCome, 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 KHAYYAMIt’s too bad if a heart lacks fire, and is deprived of the light of a heart ablaze. The day on which you are without passionate love is the most wasted day of your life.
OMAR KHAYYAMYou know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
OMAR KHAYYAMAh, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
OMAR KHAYYAMThe secret must be kept from all non-people. The mystery must be hidden from all idiots.
OMAR KHAYYAMAlas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
OMAR KHAYYAMMen talk of heaven, – there is no heaven but here; Men talk of hell, – there is no hell but here; Men of hereafters talk and future lives, – O love, there is no other life – but here.
OMAR KHAYYAMThink, in this batter’d Caravanserai Whose portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destin’d Hour and went his way.
OMAR KHAYYAMYes, the first morning of creation wrote what the last dawn of reckoning shall read.
OMAR KHAYYAMTo-day is thine to spend, but not to-morrow; Counting on morrows breedeth bankrupt sorrow: O squander not this breath that Heaven hath lent thee; Make not too sure another breath to borrow.
OMAR KHAYYAMThe entire world shall be populous with that action which saves one soul from despair.
OMAR KHAYYAM