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"Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass’d the door of darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the road,
Which to discover we must travel too.

The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it. "

#.....The Rubaiyat : Omar Khayyam.....#