"And that inverted Bowl we 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."

"I tell you this—When, started from the Goal, Over the flaming shoulders of the Soul Plots the Eternal Saki from his Bowl Ahmad and Mahmud, ere he reach the Goal."

"Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!"

"The moving finger writes; and, having writ, moves on."

"The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep, They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd."