Omar Khayyam Quotes

To-day is thine to spend, but not to-morrow; Counting on morrows breedeth bankrupt sorrow: O squander not this breath that Heaven hath lent thee; Make not too sure another breath to borrow.

Hearts are like tapers, which at beauteous eyes Kindle a flame of love that never dies; And beauty is a flame, where hearts, like moths, Offer themselves a burning sacrifice.

In one window looked two. One saw the rain and mud.
Other - green foliage ligature, spring and the sky is blue.
In one window looked two.

Empty orators and silent scholars
died without having understood Being and non-Being.
Ignorants, my brothers, let us continue tasting
the juice of the grape attentively and let
the authorities satisfy themselves
with dry raisins.

The mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.

How sweet is mortal Sovranty!" - think some: Others - "How blest the Paradise to come!" Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
And answer'd: 'I Myself am Heav'n and Hell

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.

One can no more set fire to the sea,
than convince people of the dangers of happiness - And yet, we know that though the smallest shock is fatal
to the filled up bottle, that shock will not break
the empty one.

Then said another -- "Surely not in vain
My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to common Earth again.

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.

The secret must be kept from all non-people. The mystery must be hidden from all idiots.

The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.

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.

Would you be happy! hearken, then, the way:
Heed not to-morrow, heed not yesterday;
The magic words of life are here and now -
O fools, that after some to-morrow stray!

When you are so full of sorrow
that you can't walk, can't cry anymore,
think about the green foliage that sparkles after
the rain. When the daylight exhausts you, when
you hope a final night will cover the world,
think about the awakening of a young child.

The arch of heaven looks like an
upside-down cup, under which the wise
wander in vain. May your love for your beloved
be as great as the love of the bottle for the glass.
Look, how one gives and one receives, lip against
lip, the precious blood of the grapes.

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.

There was a water-drop, it joined the sea,
A speck of dust, it was fused with earth;
what of your entering and leaving this world?
A fly appeared, and disappeared.

I hide my distress, just like
the blessed birds hide themselves
when they are preparing to die. Wine! Wine, roses, music and your
indifference to my sadness, my loved-one!

Yea! I believe that He who made the skies
Is wonderfully good, and very wise,
Beloved Friend! Hast thou never seen
The tears of pity gather in His eyes?

Drunk am I with love and awe;
'Twas ever thus with veritable seers
Too drunk with joy to tell us what they saw.

This Universal wheel, this merry-go-round
In our imagination we have found
The sun a flame, in the Cosmic lantern bound
We are mere ghosts, revolving, the flame surround.

Why was I born, when will I die?
Who can change the day of his birth,
who has a say in the day of his death?
Come, my beloved, I want to ask the spirit
of the wine to make me forget that we
shall never understand.

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

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.

Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!

Khayyám, who stitched the tents of science,
Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned,
The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,
And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!

Of all my seeking this is all my gain:
No agony of any mortal brain
Shall wrest the secret of the life of man;
The Search has taught me that the Search is vain.

There are too many tears in my eyes!
The fires of Hell are no more than sparks of fire
as compared to the flames that consume me inside.
Paradise? For me it means
a moment of peace.

So I be written in the Book of Love. I do not care about that Book Above. Erase my name, or write it as you will. So I be written in the Book of Love.

From the house of unbelief
to true religion
is a single breath;
From the world of doubt
to certainty
is a single breath;
Enjoy this precious single breath,
for the harvest
of our whole lives
is that same one breath.

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd - "I came like Water, and like Wind I go.

Don't pursue happiness!
Life is as short as a sigh.
The dust of people that were once famous
turn with the reddish clay on the wheel you are
looking at. The universe is a fata morgana;
life is a dream.

We are in truth but pieces on this chess board of life,which in the end we leave,only to drop one by one into the grave of nothingness.

When Allah created me, he knew that I
would drink a lot of wine. So if I didn't, the
omniscience of Allah would stand on its head.

Now the New Year reviving old Desires.
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

The secrets eternal neither you know nor I
And answers to the riddle neither you know nor I
Behind the veil there is much talk about us, why
When the veil falls, neither you remain nor I.

Why ponder thus the future to foresee, and jade thy brain to vain perplexity? Cast off thy care, leave Allah's plans to him – He formed them all without consulting thee." Three Cups of Tea

I brought the cup to my lips with greed
Begging for longevity, my temporal need
Cup brought its to mine, its secret did feed
Time never returns, drink, of this take heed

When you have planted
the rose of Love into your heart
your life has not been in vain.

To be free of belief and unbelief is my religion.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy 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.

Realise this: one day your soul
will depart from your body and you will
be drawn behind the curtain that floats between us
and the unknown. While you wait for that moment, be happy,
because you don't know where you came from and
you don't know where you will be going.

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!

Scholars really have nothing to teach you.
But from the soft touch of the eyelashes of
a woman you will know all there is to know about happiness.

We shall perish
along the path of Love.
Fate will trample us. Yeah, tempting
young woman, get up and give me your lips
before I return to dust.

I can't reveal the mystery to either saint or sinner; I can't state at length what I've said curtly; I achieve an altered state that I can't explain; I have a secret that I cannot share.

This body is a tent which for a space Does the pure soul with kingly presence grace; When he departs, comes the tent-pitcher, Death, Strikes it, and moves to a new halting-place.

Justice is the soul of the universe.

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!

To all of us the thought of heaven is dear
Why not be sure of it and make it here?
No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,
But 'tis so far away
and you are near.

For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd - "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" XXXVII.

You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more.

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.

The leaves of life are falling one by one

Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits
and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

How much more of the mosque, of prayer and fasting?
Better go drunk and begging round the taverns.
Khayyam, drink wine, for soon this clay of yours
Will make a cup, bowl, one day a jar.
When once you hear the roses are in bloom,
Then is the time, my love, to pour the wine;
Houris and palaces and Heaven and Hell-
These are but fairy-tales, forget them all.

When your soul and mine
have left our bodies and we are
burried alongside each other,
a Potter may one day mould
the dust of both of us
into the same clay.

Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
To-day of past Regrets and future Fears
To-morrow?
Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

You've seen the world, and all you've seen is nothing; and everything, as well, that you have said and heard is nothing. You've sprinted everywhere between here and the horizon; it is nothing. And all the possessions you've treasured up at home are nothing.

The entire world shall be populous with that action which saves one soul from despair.

How sad, a heart that
does not know how to love, that
does not know what it is to be drunk with love.
If you are not in love, how can you enjoy
the blinding light of the sun,
the soft light of the moon?

A drink is shorter than a tale

By the help of God and with His precious assistance, I say that Algebra is a scientific art. The objects with which it deals are absolute numbers and measurable quantities which, though
themselves unknown, are related to "things" which are known, whereby the determination of the unknown quantities is possible.

Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.

O friend, for the morrow let us not worry
This moment we have now, let us not hurry
When our time comes, we shall not tarry
With seven thousand-year-olds, our burden carry

Thy Return is as another Sun to Heaven; a new Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul.

Don't cry upon you losses
Don't mesure today with tommorows
Don't trust to passed and coming day
Believe in now - and be happy today.

Know yourself as a snowdrift on the sand Heaped for two days, or three, then thawed and gone. (c.1050-c.1123)

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Is it not a Shame
is it not a Shame for him
So long in this Clay suburb to abide!

Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazán, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.

And, strange to tell, among that Earthern Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried -
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?

A book of verses underneath the bough
A flask of wine, a loaf of bread and thou
Beside me singing in the wilderness
And wilderness is paradise now.

We come into this world in the waters and leave it in the winds

I value the lover's
sighs of happiness and I despise the hypocrite
mumbling his prayers.

I have not asked for life.
But I try to accept whatever
life brings without surprise.
And I shall depart again without having
questioned anyone about my strange
stay here on earth.

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavor and dispute;
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, fruit.

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

While the Rose blows along the River Brink, With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink: And when the Angel with his darker Draught Draws up to thee - take that, and do not shrink.

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.

Come, fill the Cup, in the fire of Spring
Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing

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.

To friends and eke to foes true kindness show; No kindly heart unkindly deeds will do; Harshness will alienate a bosom friend. And kindness reconcile a deadly foe.

Be quiet, pain and sorrow!
Let me find a remedy. I have to live,
as once dead there is no memory. And I want
to see my love and be with her. And I
want to remember our being together.

O ignorant world that brutishly denies
Free speech unto the exquisitely wise!

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

If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?

Is it not folly, Spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win-
What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall
Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!

My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.

Algebras are geometric facts which are proved.

A piece of bread,
some fresh water,
the shadow of a tree and your eyes, my beloved.
No sultan is happier than me,
no beggar more sad.

Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd
'While you live,
Drink!
for once dead you never shall return.

God is great!
That shout from the mosque seems like
a grand lamentation. Five times a day
the earth seems to groan against
its indifferent creator!

Give me a flagon of red wine, a book of verses, a loaf of bread, and a little idleness. If with such store I might sit by thy dear side in some lonely place, I should deem myself happier than a king in his kingdom.

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.

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.

But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows.

Strange is the riddle of this life of ours!
Who knows the meaning of the heavenly powers?
Great Caesar's wounds bleed yearly in the rose,
And flower-like ladies turn again to flowers.

Beyond the earth,
beyond the farthest skies
I try to find Heaven and Hell.
Then I hear a solemn voice that says:
Heaven and hell are inside.