Omar Khayyam Quotes

So When That Angel Of The Darker Drink, At Last Shall Find You By The River-brink, And, Offering His Cup, Invite Your Soul Forth To Your Lips To Quaff-you Shall Not Shrink.

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.

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 Blackened - Man's Forgiveness Give And Take!

Alas, That Spring Should Vanish With The Rose! That Youths Sweet-scented Manuscript Should Close!

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.

The Grape That Can With Logic Absolute The Two-and-seventy Jarring Sects Confute: The Sovereign Alchemist That In A Trice Life's Leaden Metal Into Gold Transmute.

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

And That Inverted Bowl They Call The Sky, Whereunder Crawling Cooped We Live And Die, Lift Not Your Hands To It For Help-for It As Impotently Moves As You Or I

Old Khayyám, Say You, Is A Debauchee;if Only You Were Half So Good As He!he Sins No Sins But Gentle Drunkenness,great-hearted Mirth, And Kind Adultery.but Yours The Cold Heart, And The Murderous Tongue,the Wintry Soul That Hates To Hear A Song,the Close-shut Fist, The Mean And Measuring Eye,and All The Little Poisoned Ways Of Wrong.

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.

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.

The Revelations Of Devout And Learn'd Who Rose Before Us, And As Prophets Burn'd, Are All But Stories, Which, Awoke From Sleep They Told Their Comrades, And To Sleep Return'd.