Quotes by Edward FitzGerald
“And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling cooped we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently moves as you or I.”— Edward FitzGerald
“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”— Edward FitzGerald
“A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness— Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!”— Edward FitzGerald
“Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter—and the Bird is on the Wing.”— Edward FitzGerald
“Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend.”— Edward FitzGerald
“Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.”— Edward FitzGerald
“Ah, my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears: To-morrow!—Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.”— Edward FitzGerald
“For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.”— Edward FitzGerald
“The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two—is gone.”— Edward FitzGerald
“Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!”— Edward FitzGerald