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Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

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
Credit
Take
Rumble
Drum
Heed
Distant
Cash

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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.
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The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
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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.
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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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The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.
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A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
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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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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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Oh, the brave Music of a distant drum!
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Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.
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If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?
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The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
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You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more.
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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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Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.
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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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The thoughtful soul to solitude retires.
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For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
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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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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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