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I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

— Omar Khayyám FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)

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More quotes by Omar Khayyám

Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness —
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.

FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)

One half so precious as the stuff they sell.

FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)

And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass.

FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)

That sallow cheek of hers to' incarnadine.

FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)

When you and I behind the Veil are past.

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (1120)

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Omar Khayyám (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.