The lower the soul of a person, the higher the nose up. He stretches his nose to where the soul has not grown.
The leaves of life are falling one by one.
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread - and Thou.
We do much more work than you. Even when we are drunk, We are still more sober than you. You drink people's blood, And we drink the grape's blood. Let's be fair, which one of us is more immoral?
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it.
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.
Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
Know yourself as a snowdrift on the sand Heaped for two days, or three, then thawed and gone.
Of threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain—This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is.
There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.
Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
Heaven has not learned of my arrival, and my departure will not in the least diminish it beauty and grandeur. I will sleep underground, for us ephemeral mortals, the only eternity is the moment and drinking to the moment is better than weeping for it.
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.
As far as you can avoid it, do not give grief to anyone. Never inflict your rage on another. If you hope for eternal rest, feel the pain yourself; but don't hurt others.
The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.
The moving finger writes, and having writ moves on.
Dead yesterdays and unborn tomorrows, why fret about it, if today be sweet.
The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows.
When I want to understand what is happening today or try to decide what will happen tomorrow, I look back.
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.
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.
For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
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.
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
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.
In monasteries, seminaries, retreats and synagogues, they fear hell and seek paradise. Those who know the mysteries of God never let that seed be planted in their souls.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
I hide my grief, just like the blessed birds hide themselves when they are preparing to die, my love.
The moving hand once having writ moves on. Nor all thy piety nor wit can lure it back to cancel half a line.
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.
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.
My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.
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.
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.
Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
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.
A hair divides what is false and true.
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.
