Omar Khayyám

Omar
Khayyám
1048
1131

Persian Poet, Mathematician, Polymath and Astronomer who also wrote treatises on Mechanics, Geography, Mineralogy, Music, Climatology and Theology

Author Quotes

What shall I do, today? Visit the pub? Sit down in a garden with a book? A bird flies past. Where is it headed? It's out of sight already. The drunkenness of a bird in the burning azure. The melancholy of a man in the cool shadow of a mosque.

Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains; taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and they change and perish all ? but He remains;

You can seduce a man, who has a wife, you can seduce a man who has a mistress, but you cannot seduce a man who has a beloved woman.

What! from his helpless Creature be repaid Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd ? Sue for a Debt he never did contract, and cannot answer ? Oh, the sorry trade!

Why do you sell your wine, merchant?

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

What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke a conscious Something to resent the yoke of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

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

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.

Tonight I will make a tun of wine, Set myself up with two bowls of it; First I will divorce absolutely reason and religion, Then take to wife the daughter of the vine

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!

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.

You name the world level before he can be worthy Cho looks sad heart goes open ward to ward head Betty hair that level before they leave Band Benedetti .

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.

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.

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.

You say some Greek philosophers could dazzle their audiences with their riddles? That does not interest me at all. Bring more wine instead and play your lute; your changes in tones remind me of the wind that rushes past and disappears, just like us.

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit of This and That endeavor and dispute; better be jocund with the fruitful Grape than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

When morning silvers the dark firmament, Why shrills the bird of dawning his lament? It is to show in dawn?s bright looking-glass How of thy careless life a night is spent.

Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare? A Blessing, we should use it, should we not? And if a Curse ? why, then, Who set it there?

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.

We are no other than a moving row of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held in Midnight by the Master of the Show.

When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last, which of our Coming and Departure heeds as the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, and naked on the Air of Heaven ride, were't not a Shame ? were't not a Shame for him in this clay carcase crippled to abide?

You'll find that your soul was separated in mystery death will you be drinking consequences do not know where you hail do not know where to go.

Author Picture
First Name
Omar
Last Name
Khayyám
Birth Date
1048
Death Date
1131
Bio

Persian Poet, Mathematician, Polymath and Astronomer who also wrote treatises on Mechanics, Geography, Mineralogy, Music, Climatology and Theology