Omar Khayyam — "The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on."
The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on.
The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on.
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"Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And dwell with the Divine, shall it abide In Sin and Error while the Flesh endures, And still rebel, howe'er the Spirit chide?"
"Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence!"
"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."
"The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw, And Kings the Throne of Jamshyd high o'erthrew, In whose high Courts the crowing Cock might once Have crow'd, but now the Lizard and the Rue."
"For let us make our Fête of to-day, for to-morrow we are gone, and what we have enjoyed is gone, and we are gone, and gone is our memory too."
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