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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.

Omar Khayyam

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Omar Khayyam
Age: 83 †
Born: 1048
Born: May 15
Died: 1131
Died: December 4
Astrologer
Astronomer
Lyricist
Mathematician
Musician
Philosopher
Physicist
Poet
Writer
Neyshabur
Omar Khayyam
Hakim Omar Khayyám
Men
Youth
Value
Health
Justly
Wealth
Diseased
Class
Needy
Values
Appreciated
Three
Classes
Things
Appreciation

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A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
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The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute.
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Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
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You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
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Here's to the man Who owns the land That bears the grapes That makes the wine That tastes as good As this does.
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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.
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Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.
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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?
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By Fate full many a heart has been undone, And many a sprightly rose made woe-begone Plume thee not on thy lusty youth and strength: Full many a bud is blasted ere its bloom.
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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.
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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.
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If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?
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And this I know whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the temple lost outright.
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Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.
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Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
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