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Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.

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
Weeps
Artist
Excessive
Laughs
Moderation
Sympathy
Sorrow
Laughing
Excessiveness
Joy

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My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.
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A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
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If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they'd immediately go out.
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Joy and woe are woven fine.
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Everything to be imagined is an image of truth.
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Enlightenment means taking full responsibility for your life.
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Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
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If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thru chinks of his cavern.
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Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.
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Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.
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It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted.
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Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.
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The person who does not believe in miracles surely makes it certain that he or she will never take part in one.
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When a Man has Married a WifeHe finds out whetherHer Knees & elbows are onlyglued together.
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He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
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In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
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Harmony of colouring is destructive of art? it is like the smile of a fool.
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He who does not imagine in stronger and better lineaments, and in stronger and better light than his perishing and mortal eye can see, does not imagine at all.
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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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If you trap the moment before it's ripe, The tears of repentence you'll certainly wipe But if once you let the ripe moment go You can never wipe off the tears of woe.
William Blake