MondayAug 17, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
I came like Water, and like Wind I go.
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.
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.
There was the Door to which I found no key; There was the Veil through which I might not see.
For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life spell, And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered I Myself am Heaven and Hell.
But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
O threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain - This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has bloomed for ever dies.
Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose. That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang Ah
Ah, fill the Cup: - what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday, Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!
Heaven but the Vision of fulfilled Desire. And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire.
He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. Ali Ben Abu Taleb.
Terms of use and copyrights
