You’ve seen the world, and all you’ve seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that you have said and heard is nothing. You’ve sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions you’ve treasured up at home are nothing.
OMAR KHAYYAMDrink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I came like Water, and like Wind I go.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Myself when young did eagerly frequent doctor and saint, and heard great argument about it and about: but evermore came out by the same door as in I went.
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 -
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 -
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 wonder what the vintners buy one half so precious as the stuff they sell.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The value of three things is justly appreciated by all classes of men: youth, by the old; health, by the diseased; and wealth, by the needy.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The entire world shall be populous with that action which saves one soul from despair.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
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 -
Men 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 KHAYYAM -
Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.
OMAR KHAYYAM