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Tomorrow! - Why, tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday's sev'n thousand years.

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
May
Years
Yesterday
Tomorrow
Thousand

More quotes by Omar Khayyam

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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.
Omar Khayyam
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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.
Omar Khayyam
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A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou.
Omar Khayyam
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If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?
Omar Khayyam
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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.
Omar Khayyam
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The Stars are setting and the Caravan Starts for the Dawn of Nothing-Oh, make haste!
Omar Khayyam
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He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.
Omar Khayyam
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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.
Omar Khayyam
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Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youths sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
Omar Khayyam
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Algebras (jabbre and maqabeleh) are geometric facts which are proved by propositions five and six of Book two of Elements.
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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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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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.
Omar Khayyam
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The Flower that once has blown forever dies.
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.
Omar Khayyam
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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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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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Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.
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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There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.
Omar Khayyam