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Strange—is it not?—that of the myriads who
Before us passed the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the road
Which to discover we must travel too.

— Omar Khayyám Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (1120)

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Death

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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Attribution

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.