Quotes
Quotes - Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste--
And, Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd
The NOTHING it set out from. Oh, make haste!
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire.
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.
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.
And when like her, O Sáki, you shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your blissful errand reach the spot
Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass.
