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 KHAYYAMThe wine-cup is the little silver well, Where truth, if truth there be, doth dwell.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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Drink! for you know not when you came, nor why; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
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 -
Think 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.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
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 -
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 -
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d Of the Two Worlds so wisely – they are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scattered, and their mouths are stopped with Dust.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
To be free of belief and unbelief is my religion.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Into this universe, and why not knowing Nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing; And out of it, as wind along the wate, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
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