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Omar Khayyam Quotes(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/f8/Omar_Khayyam_Profile.jpg/220px-Omar_Khayyam_Profile.jpg)
A Persian Sufi mathematician, astronomer, philosopher and poet. Omar Khayyam,, was a Persian Sufi mathematician, astronomer, philosopher and poet. He also wrote treatises on mechanics, geography, and music.
Here are some famous quotes by Omar Khayyam.
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Ah take the cash and let the credit go.
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The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires.
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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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The bird of time has but a little way To flutter - and the bird is on the wing.
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Tomorrow! - Why tomorrow I may be Myself with yesterday's sev'n thousand years.
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All this of Pot and Potter - Tell me then Who is the Potter pray and who the Pot?
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Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire.
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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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One thing is certain and the rest is lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
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There was the door to which I found no key There was the veil through which I might not see.
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There was the Door to which I found no key; There was the Veil through which I might not see.
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Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go nor where.
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A book of Verses underneath the Bough A Jug of Wine a Loaf of Bread - and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness - Oh Wilderness were Paradise enow!
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Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint and heard great argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same door where in I went.
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0 thou who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the road I was to wander in Thou wilt not with predestin'd evil round Enmesh and then impute my fall to sin.
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I sent my Soul through the Invisible Some letter of that After-life to spell And by and by my Soul returned to me And answered 'I Myself am Heav'n and Hell.'
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And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die Lift not your hands to it for help - for it As impotently moves as you or I.
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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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I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
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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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You know my friends with what a brave carouse I made a second marriage in my house; Divorced old barren reason from my bed And took the daughter of the vine to spouse.
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Strange - is it not? - that of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too.
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Ah love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire Would not we shatter it to bits - and then Re-mold it nearer to the heart's desire!
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Ah Love! could you and I with him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire Would we not shatter it to bits - and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire?
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Yet Ah that Spring should vanish with the Rose. That Youth's sweetscented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang Ah whence and whither flown again who knows?