Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

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W. Doxey, 1898 - 113 страница
 

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Страница 112 - Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?
Страница 86 - Into this Universe, and Why not knowing Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing; And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.
Страница 83 - I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Страница 84 - 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!
Страница 64 - The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.
Страница 85 - Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument About it and about : but evermore Came out by the same door where in I went...
Страница 58 - Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavor and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
Страница 48 - And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend — ourselves to make a Couch — for whom?
Страница 87 - Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.
Страница 82 - Think, in this batter'd caravanserai Whose portals are alternate night and day, How Sultan after Sultan with his pomp Abode his destined hour and went his way.

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