Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!
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"The wise men tell us that the soul is not a thing, but a relation. That is true, for the soul is a relation of the body to the universe, and of the universe to the body."
"Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing."
"The Potter, having labor’d long and sore In many a Wheel, turns out at last no more Than a broken Pot, which he throws away, And then begins his work again as before."
"I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And evermore my Soul said, 'I myself am Heav'n and Hell.'"
"And that inverted Bowl we call the Sky, Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help – for It As impotently moves as you or I."
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (FitzGerald translation)
Date: c. 11th-12th century
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