All Quotes by Omar Khayyam
“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
“This world”
“The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.”
“The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.”
“Whoever thinks algebra is a trick in obtaining unknowns has thought it in vain. No attention should be paid to the fact that algebra and geometry are different in appearance. Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.”
“Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.”
“Before the phantom of False morning died, Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"”
“And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before And, once departed, may return no more".”
“Now the New Year reviving old Desires, Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.”
“Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, And many a Garden by the Water blows.”
“Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring To flutter — and the Bird is on the Wing.”
“Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.”
“Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say; Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?”
“A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!”
“Some for the Glories of This World; and some Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!”
“The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Lighting a little hour or two — is gone.”
“I sometimes think that never blows so red Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.”
“And this reviving Herb whose tender Green From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!”
“Ah, my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clears Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.”
“For some we loved, the loveliest and the best And one by one crept silently to rest.”
“Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight”
“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End!”
“Alike for those who for To-day prepare, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There".”
“Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.”
“Myself when young did eagerly frequent Came out by the same door where in I went.”
“With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, "I came like Water, and like Wind I go".”
“Into this Universe, and Why not knowing I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.”
“What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? Must drown the memory of that insolence!”
“Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.”
“There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was — and then no more of Thee and Me.”
“Then of the Thee in Me works behind As from Without — "The Me Within Thee Blind!"”
“Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return".”
“Perplext no more with Human or Divine, The Cypress — slender Minister of Wine.”
“And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press You were — To-morrow You shall not be less.”
“Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, In this clay carcase crippled to abide?”
“'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.”
“And fear not lest Existence closing your Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.”
“When You and I behind the Veil are past, As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.”
“A Moment's Halt — a momentary taste The Nothing it set out from — Oh, make haste!”
“Would you that spangle of Existence spend And upon what, prithee, may life depend?”
“A Hair perhaps divides the False and True; And peradventure to The Master too;”
“Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins They change and perish all — but He remains;”
“A moment guess'd — then back behind the Fold He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.”
“But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor To-morrow, You when shall be You no more?”
“Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.”
“You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.”
“For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line Was never deep in anything but — Wine.”
“Ah, but my Computations, People say, Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.”
“And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, He bid me taste of it; and 'twas — the Grape!”
“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.”
“The Grape that can with Logic absolute Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute:”
“The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.”
“Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there?”
“I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must, To fill the Cup — when crumbled into Dust!”
“Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.”
“Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Which to discover we must travel too.”
“The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.”
“I sent my Soul through the Invisible, And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"”
“Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.”
“We are no other than a moving row In Midnight by the Master of the Show;”
“But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays And one by one back in the Closet lays.”
“The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, He knows about it all — He knows — HE knows!”
“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.”
“Your hand can seize today, but not tomorrow; and thoughts of your tomorrow are nothing but desire. Don’t waste this breath, if your heart isn’t crazy, since "the rest of your life" won’t last forever.”
“And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, As impotently moves as you or I.”
“With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.”
“Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.”
“The Vine had struck a fibre: which about That shall unlock the Door he howls without.”
“I sent my Soul through the Invisible,”
“And this I know: whether the one True Light Better than in the Temple lost outright.”
“What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!”
“What! from his helpless Creature be repaid And cannot answer — Oh, the sorry trade!”
“Oh, Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!”
“Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make, Is blacken'd — Man's forgiveness give — and take!”
“As under cover of departing Day I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.”
“Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small, Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all.”
“Said one among them — "Surely not in vain Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again".”
“Then said a Second — "Ne'er a peevish Boy Will surely not in after Wrath destroy".”
“A book of verses underneath the bough”
“After a momentary silence spake What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"”
“Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot — Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"”
“"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well".”
“"Well," Murmur'd one, "Let whoso make or buy, Methinks I might recover by and by".”
“Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, By some not unfrequented Garden-side.”
“That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare But shall be overtaken unaware.”
“Indeed the Idols I have loved so long And sold my Reputation for a Song.”
“Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.”
“And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, One half so precious as the stuff they sell.”
“Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!”
“Would but some wing'ed Angel ere too late Enregister, or quite obliterate!”
“Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!”
“Yon rising Moon that looks for us again — Through this same Garden — and for one in vain!”
“And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass Where I made One — turn down an empty Glass!”
“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,”
“Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.”
“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
“The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.”
“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.”
“Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.”
“The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.”
“A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.”
“The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two - is gone.”
“There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.”
“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,”
“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.”
“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.”
“A hair divides what is false and true.”
“When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.”
“The Flower that once has blown forever dies.”
“Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!”
“How much more of the mosque, of prayer and fasting?”
“Every particle of dust on a patch of earth”
“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.”
“Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,”
“The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.”