Omar Khayyam — "The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on."
The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on.
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More from Omar Khayyam
"How many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that Hour of thine, When, in the Tavern, thou didst set thy Seal To that dread Bond which binds thee up to mine!"
"Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd—'While you live, Drink!—for, once dead, you never shall return.'"
"I sent my soul through the invisible, some letter of that after-life to spell."
"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!"
"Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blackened – Man’s forgiveness give – and take!"
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