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The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.

William Blake

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William Blake
Age: 69 †
Born: 1757
Born: November 28
Died: 1827
Died: August 12
Collector
Engraver
Graphic Artist
Illustrator
Lithographer
Painter
Philosopher
Poet
Printer
Theologian
London
England
W. Blake
Uil'iam Bleik
Blake
Happiness
Thankfulness
Thanksgiving
Harvest
Thankful
Cheer
Gratitude
Bears
Plentiful
Morning
Receiver

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Naught can deform the human race Like to the armor's iron brace.
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The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow
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Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.
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The world of imagination is the world of eternity.
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To generalize is to be an idiot. To particularize is the alone distinction of merit. General knowledge are those knowledge that idiots possess.
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The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that won't believe. The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
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Poetry fettered fetters the human race.
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He who replies to words of doubt doth put the light of knowledge out.
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If you cannot imagine with the mind's eye much more than you can see with the mortal eye, you have a very poor imagination indeed.
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When the voices of children are heard on the greenAnd laughing is heard on the hill,My heart is at rest within my breastAnd everything else is still.
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The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
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You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
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The Woman that does not love your Frowns Will never embrace your smiles.
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Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
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Hindsight is a wonderful thing but foresight is better, especially when it comes to saving life, or some pain!
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I rest not from my great task! | To open the Eternal Worlds, | to open the immortal Eyes of Man | Inwards into the Worlds of Thought | Into eternity, ever expanding | In the Bosom of God, | The Human Imagination
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God and His Priest and King,...make up a heaven of our misery.
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
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None but blockheads copy each other.
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And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love')
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