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.
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The quatrains gathered under Khayyam's name turn from certainty to wine, mortality, and the silence of the heavens. Faith and skepticism sit together in them unresolved, which is part of why they still speak.