“When your soul and minehave left our bodies and we areburried alongside each other,a Potter may one day mouldthe dust of both of usinto the same clay.”

“Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,Is it not a Shame--is it not a Shame for himSo long in this Clay suburb to abide!”

“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,Before we too into the Dust descend;Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lieSans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!Alike for those who for To-day prepare,And those that after some To-morrow stare,A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.”

“We shall perishalong the path of Love.Fate will trample us. Yeah, temptingyoung woman, get up and give me your lipsbefore I return to dust.”

“Realise this: one day your soulwill depart from your body and you willbe drawn behind the curtain that floats between usand the unknown. While you wait for that moment, be happy,because you don't know where you came from andyou don't know where you will be going.”

“May your love for your belovedbe as great as the love of the bottle for the glass.Look, how one gives and one receives, lip againstlip, the precious blood of the grapes!”

“How much more of the mosque, of prayer and fasting?Better go drunk and begging round the taverns.Khayyam, drink wine, for soon this clay of yoursWill make a cup, bowl, one day a jar.When once you hear the roses are in bloom,Then is the time, my love, to pour the wine;Houris and palaces and Heaven and Hell-These are but fairy-tales, forget them all.”