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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.

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
Dies
Flames
Eye
Offer
Heart
Burning
Tapers
Never
Hearts
Beauteous
Love
Offers
Kindle
Like
Sacrifice
Moths
Beauty
Kindles
Eyes
Flame

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Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
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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!
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Heaven but the vision of fulfilled desire, and Hell the shadow from a soul on fire.
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If I don't enjoy myself now, when shall I?
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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.
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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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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 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 Flower that once has blown forever dies.
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It’s too bad if a heart lacks fire, and is deprived of the light of a heart ablaze. The day on which you are without passionate love is the most wasted day of your life.
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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.
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Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.
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.
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He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.
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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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Drink! For you know not whence you came nor why.
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There was a door to which I found no key: There was the veil through which I might not see.
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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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Oh, the brave Music of a distant drum!
Omar Khayyam