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

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
Desire
Soul
Fulfilled
Shadow
Hell
Vision
Fire
Heaven

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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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To be free of belief and unbelief is my religion.
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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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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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Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
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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.
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We are thinking about bad only those who are worse than we are, and those who are better than us ... I'm just not up to us ... One does not follow it than smell roses. Another of the bitter herbs will produce honey. Give bread to one - will remember forever. Another life donation - do not understand.
Omar Khayyam
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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!
Omar Khayyam
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The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
Omar Khayyam
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The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
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Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.
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Into this universe, and why not knowing Nor whence, like water willy-nilly flowing And out of it, as wind along the wate, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Omar Khayyam
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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.
Omar Khayyam
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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.
Omar Khayyam
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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.
Omar Khayyam
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You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
Omar Khayyam
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A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
Omar Khayyam
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The Moving Finger writes and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
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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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If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?
Omar Khayyam