Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.
OMAR KHAYYAMHearts 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.
More Omar Khayyam Quotes
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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 -
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 -
Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.
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 -
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Oh, the brave Music of a distant drum!
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai Whose portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destin’d Hour and went his way.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Fools, your reward is neither here nor there.
OMAR KHAYYAM -
Don’t cry upon your losses Don’t measure today with tomorows Don’t trust to be passed and coming day believe in now – and be happy today.
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 -
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 -
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