I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.
OMAR KHAYYAMThink not I dread to see my spirit fly, Through the dark gates of fell mortality; Death has no terrors when the life is true; ‘Tis living ill that makes us fear to die.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
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 -
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 -
There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
My friend, let’s not think of tomorrow, but let’s enjoy this fleeting moment of life.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Come, 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 KHAYYAM -
Tomorrow! – Why, tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday’s sev’n thousand years.
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 -
Yes, the first morning of creation wrote what the last dawn of reckoning shall read.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I wonder what the vintners buy one half so precious as the stuff they sell.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The wine-cup is the little silver well, Where truth, if truth there be, doth dwell.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Heaven has not learned of my arrival, and my departure will not in the least diminish it beauty and grandeur. I will sleep underground, for us ephemeral mortals, the only eternity is the moment and drinking to the moment is better than weeping for it.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
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