The Unbeliever Knows His Koran Best.

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.

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.

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.

I Hide My Grief, Just Like The Blessed Birds Hide Themselves When They Are Preparing To Die, My Love.

Oh, The Brave Music Of A Distant Drum!