Omar Khayyam

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

— Omar Khayyam

This world

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

— Omar Khayyam

Before the phantom of False morning died, Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"

— Omar Khayyam

And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before And, once departed, may return no more".

— Omar Khayyam

Now the New Year reviving old Desires, Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

— Omar Khayyam

Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, And many a Garden by the Water blows.

— Omar Khayyam

Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring To flutter — and the Bird is on the Wing.

— Omar Khayyam

Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.

— Omar Khayyam

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say; Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?

— Omar Khayyam

A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

— Omar Khayyam

Some for the Glories of This World; and some Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

— Omar Khayyam

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Lighting a little hour or two — is gone.

— Omar Khayyam

I sometimes think that never blows so red Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.

— Omar Khayyam

And this reviving Herb whose tender Green From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

— Omar Khayyam

Ah, my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clears Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

— Omar Khayyam

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best And one by one crept silently to rest.

— Omar Khayyam

Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight

— Omar Khayyam

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End!

— Omar Khayyam

Alike for those who for To-day prepare, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There".

— Omar Khayyam

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

— Omar Khayyam

Myself when young did eagerly frequent Came out by the same door where in I went.

— Omar Khayyam

With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, "I came like Water, and like Wind I go".

— Omar Khayyam

Into this Universe, and Why not knowing I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.

— Omar Khayyam

What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? Must drown the memory of that insolence!

— Omar Khayyam

Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

— Omar Khayyam

There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was — and then no more of Thee and Me.

— Omar Khayyam

Then of the Thee in Me works behind As from Without — "The Me Within Thee Blind!"

— Omar Khayyam

Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return".

— Omar Khayyam

Perplext no more with Human or Divine, The Cypress — slender Minister of Wine.

— Omar Khayyam

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press You were — To-morrow You shall not be less.

— Omar Khayyam

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

— Omar Khayyam

'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.

— Omar Khayyam

And fear not lest Existence closing your Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

— Omar Khayyam

When You and I behind the Veil are past, As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.

— Omar Khayyam

A Moment's Halt — a momentary taste The Nothing it set out from — Oh, make haste!

— Omar Khayyam

Would you that spangle of Existence spend And upon what, prithee, may life depend?

— Omar Khayyam

A Hair perhaps divides the False and True; And peradventure to The Master too;

— Omar Khayyam

Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins They change and perish all — but He remains;

— Omar Khayyam

A moment guess'd — then back behind the Fold He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.

— Omar Khayyam

But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor To-morrow, You when shall be You no more?

— Omar Khayyam

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

— Omar Khayyam

You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

— Omar Khayyam

For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line Was never deep in anything but — Wine.

— Omar Khayyam

Ah, but my Computations, People say, Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

— Omar Khayyam

And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, He bid me taste of it; and 'twas — the Grape!

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

The Grape that can with Logic absolute Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute:

— Omar Khayyam

The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.

— Omar Khayyam

Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there?

— Omar Khayyam

I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must, To fill the Cup — when crumbled into Dust!

— Omar Khayyam

Oh, threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

— Omar Khayyam

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Which to discover we must travel too.

— Omar Khayyam

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.

— Omar Khayyam

I sent my Soul through the Invisible, And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"

— Omar Khayyam

Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.

— Omar Khayyam

We are no other than a moving row In Midnight by the Master of the Show;

— Omar Khayyam

But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays And one by one back in the Closet lays.

— Omar Khayyam

The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, He knows about it all — He knows — HE knows!

— Omar Khayyam

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, As impotently moves as you or I.

— Omar Khayyam

With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

— Omar Khayyam

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

— Omar Khayyam

The Vine had struck a fibre: which about That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

— Omar Khayyam

I sent my Soul through the Invisible,

— Omar Khayyam

And this I know: whether the one True Light Better than in the Temple lost outright.

— Omar Khayyam

What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

— Omar Khayyam

What! from his helpless Creature be repaid And cannot answer — Oh, the sorry trade!

— Omar Khayyam

Oh, Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!

— Omar Khayyam

Oh, Thou who Man of baser Earth didst make, Is blacken'd — Man's forgiveness give — and take!

— Omar Khayyam

As under cover of departing Day I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.

— Omar Khayyam

Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small, Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all.

— Omar Khayyam

Said one among them — "Surely not in vain Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again".

— Omar Khayyam

Then said a Second — "Ne'er a peevish Boy Will surely not in after Wrath destroy".

— Omar Khayyam

A book of verses underneath the bough

— Omar Khayyam

After a momentary silence spake What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

— Omar Khayyam

Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot — Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"

— Omar Khayyam

"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well".

— Omar Khayyam

"Well," Murmur'd one, "Let whoso make or buy, Methinks I might recover by and by".

— Omar Khayyam

Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, By some not unfrequented Garden-side.

— Omar Khayyam

That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare But shall be overtaken unaware.

— Omar Khayyam

Indeed the Idols I have loved so long And sold my Reputation for a Song.

— Omar Khayyam

Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

— Omar Khayyam

And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, One half so precious as the stuff they sell.

— Omar Khayyam

Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

— Omar Khayyam

Would but some wing'ed Angel ere too late Enregister, or quite obliterate!

— Omar Khayyam

Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

— Omar Khayyam

Yon rising Moon that looks for us again — Through this same Garden — and for one in vain!

— Omar Khayyam

And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass Where I made One — turn down an empty Glass!

— Omar Khayyam

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

— Omar Khayyam

Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.

— Omar Khayyam

Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.

— 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

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

Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

— Omar Khayyam

The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.

— Omar Khayyam

A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.

— Omar Khayyam

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

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.

— Omar Khayyam

A hair divides what is false and true.

— 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 Flower that once has blown forever dies.

— Omar Khayyam

Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

— Omar Khayyam

How much more of the mosque, of prayer and fasting?

— Omar Khayyam

Every particle of dust on a patch of earth

— 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

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,

— 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