-
With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd - 'I came like Water, and like Wind I go'.
Omar Khayyam -
There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.
Omar Khayyam
-
After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; 'They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?'
Omar Khayyam -
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
Omar Khayyam -
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
Omar Khayyam -
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
Omar Khayyam -
Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows.
Omar Khayyam -
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
Omar Khayyam
-
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence!
Omar Khayyam -
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke A conscious Something to resent the yoke Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
Omar Khayyam -
Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake: For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd - Man's forgiveness give - and take!
Omar Khayyam -
A moment guess'd - then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.
Omar Khayyam -
And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, One Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.
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 scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
Omar Khayyam
-
Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
Omar Khayyam -
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas - the Grape!
Omar Khayyam -
Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
Omar Khayyam -
When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.
Omar Khayyam -
The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.
Omar Khayyam -
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
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 -
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong: Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup And sold my Reputation for a Song.
Omar Khayyam -
Before the phantom of False morning died, Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried, 'When all the Temple is prepared within, Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?'
Omar Khayyam -
A hair divides what is false and true.
Omar Khayyam