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 Copy Share Image
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… — Edward Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
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… — Edward Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
A book of verses underneath the bough, A jug of wine, a loaf of bread-and thou. — Edward Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
Whether we wake or we sleep, Whether we carol or weep, The Sun with his Planets in chime, Marketh the going of Time. — Edward Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to… — Edward FitzGerald Copy Share Image
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. — Edward Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days Hither and thither moves, and checks and slays” — Edward FitzGerald Copy Share Image
“Tis all a chequer board of nights and days, where destiny with men for pieces plays; hither and thither, and mates and slays.” — Edward Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
“And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in - Yes - Then fancy while… — Edward FitzGerald Copy Share Image
