There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was the Veil through which I might not see: Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was — and … - Omar Khayyám

Old Khayyám, say you, is a debauchee;
If only you were half so good as he!
He sins no sins but gentle drunkenness,
Great-hearted mirth, and kind adultery.

But yours the cold heart, and the murderous tongue,
The wintry soul that hates to hear a song,
The close-shut fist, the mean and measuring eye,
And all the little poisoned ways of wrong.

As far as you can avoid it, do not give grief to anyone. Never inflict your rage on another. If you hope for eternal rest, feel the pain yourself; but don’t hurt others.

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 him
So long in this Clay suburb to abide!