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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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
Inspirational
Lies
Lied
Truth
Told
Deceit
Philosophy
Invent
Politics
Falsehood
Lying
Deception
Truthfulness
Religion
Intention
Infidelity
Funny
Honesty
Dishonesty
War
Beats
Intent
More quotes by William Blake
Joy and woe are woven fine.
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In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
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How sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!
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It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God only.
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Rhetoric completes the tools of learning. Dialectic zeros in on the logic of things, of particular systems of thought or subjects. Rhetoric takes the next grand step and brings all these subjects together into one whole.
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Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache: do be my enemy for friendship's sake.
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Forgive what you do not approve & love me for this energetic exertion of my talent
William Blake
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.
William Blake
Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves the feet of angels bright unseen they pour blessing, and joy without ceasing, on each bud and blossom, and each sleeping bosom.
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Wisdom is sold in a desolate marketplace where none can come to buy.
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Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy? Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?
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Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
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Grown old in love from seven till seven times seven,I oft have wished for Hell for ease from Heaven.
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The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.
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Why stand we here trembling around, calling on God for help, and not ourselves, in whom God dwells?
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The cistern contains: The fountain overflows.
William Blake
Commerce is so far from being beneficial to arts, or to empire, that it is destructive of both, as all their history shows, for the above reason of individual merit being its great hatred. Empires flourish till they become commercial, and then they are scattered abroad to the four winds.
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Man has no Body distinct from his Soul for that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
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Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction? Or the glistening eye to the poison of a smile?
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The eye altering, alters all.
William Blake