A Drink Is Shorter Than A Tale

Why Ponder Thus The Future To Foresee, And Jade Thy Brain To Vain Perplexity? Cast Off Thy Care, Leave Allah’s Plans To Him – He Formed Them All Without Consulting Thee.

Here's To The Man Who Owns The Land That Bears The Grapes That Makes The Wine That Tastes As Good As This Does.

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

I Wonder What The Vintners Buy One Half So Precious As The Stuff They Sell.

The Moving Finger Writes; And Having Writ, Moves On.