"The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life’s leaden Metal into Gold can transmute."

"Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a Shame—were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?"

"Earth then an endless Tabernacle drew Of Him whose coming none can tell, nor who, To fill the Bowl where now we pour the Wine, Before we too into the Dust shall strew."

"The wise man is he who enjoys the present, for the future is uncertain and the past is gone."

"I tell you this—When, started from the Goal, Over the flaming shoulders of the Soul Plots the Eternal Saki from his Bowl Ahmad and Mahmud, ere he reach the Goal."