Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
OMAR KHAYYAMThe entire world shall be populous with that action which saves one soul from despair.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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This body is a tent which for a space Does the pure soul with kingly presence grace; When he departs, comes the tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes it, and moves to a new halting-place.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
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 KHAYYAM -
Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.
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 -
To be free of belief and unbelief is my religion.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Justice is the soul of the universe.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.
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 -
I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
A hair divides what is false and true.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Why ponder thus the future to foresee, and jade thy brain to vain perplexity? Cast off thy care, leave Allah’s plans to him – He formed them all without consulting thee.
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 -
Ah Love! could you and I with him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire Would we not shatter it to bits-and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart’s Desire?
OMAR KHAYYAM