And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Where under crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help for it As impotently moves as you or I.
– Edward Fitzgerald
Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the sky I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry: 'Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.
– Edward Fitzgerald
I come like Water, and like Wind I go.
– Edward Fitzgerald
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.
– Edward Fitzgerald
Strange, is it not? That of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road Which to discover we must travel too.
– Edward Fitzgerald
The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Here or There as strikes the Player goes.
– Edward Fitzgerald
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.
– Edward Fitzgerald
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.
– Edward Fitzgerald
There was the Door to which I found no key; There was the Veil through which I might see.
– Edward Fitzgerald
Think then you are Today what Yesterday you were - Tomorrow you shall not be less.
– Edward Fitzgerald
Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?
– Edward Fitzgerald
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; tomorrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair: Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
– Edward Fitzgerald
Leave well - even 'pretty well' - alone: that is what I learn as I get old.