A drink is shorter than a tale.
OMAR KHAYYAMBetter be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Yes, the first morning of creation wrote what the last dawn of reckoning shall read.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
We are thinking about bad only those who are worse than we are, and those who are better than us … I’m just not up to us … One does not follow it than smell roses. Another of the bitter herbs will produce honey. Give bread to one – will remember forever. Another life donation – do not understand.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
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 KHAYYAM -
To friends and eke to foes true kindness show; No kindly heart unkindly deeds will do; Harshness will alienate a bosom friend. And kindness reconcile a deadly foe.
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 -
We are in truth but pieces on this chess board of life, which in the end we leave, only to drop one by one into the grave of nothingness.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I hide my distress, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die. Wine! Wine, roses, music and your indifference to my sadness, my loved-one!
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 -
Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flight The Stars before him from the Field of Night, Drives Night along with them from Heav’n, and strikes The Sultan’s Turret with a Shaft of Light.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel’d by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.
OMAR KHAYYAM






