Quote

You cannot have Liberty in this world without what you call Moral Virtue, and you cannot have Moral Virtue without the slavery of that half of the human race who hate what you call Moral Virtue.

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
Without
Race
World
Moral
Half
Hate
Artist
Slavery
Cannot
Virtue
Human
Liberty
Humans
Call

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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, who are organised by Divine Providence for spiritual communion, refuse, and bury your talent in the earth, even though you should want natural bread, sorrow and desperation pursue you through life, and after death shame and confusion of face to eternity.
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Painters are noted for being dissipated and wild.
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Celebrate your existence!
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Jesus & his apostles & disciples were all artists
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Fun I love, but too much fun is of all things the most loathsome. Mirth is better than fun, and happiness is better than mirth.
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He who has suffered you to impose on him knows you.
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O God, protect me from my friends, that they have not power over me. Thou hast giv'n me power to protect myself from thy bitterest enemies.
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He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.
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But when he has done this, let him not say that he knows better than his master, for he only holds a candle in sunshine.
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Although wine when it is read somewhat lacks the savour of wine when it is drunk, wine remains a very pleasant thing both to read about and to chat about.
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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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Execution is the chariot of genius.
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The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
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The fox condemns the trap, not himself.
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But to go to school in a summer morn, O! It drives all joy away Under a cruel eye outworn, The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay.
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On no other ground Can I sow my seed Without tearing up Some stinking weed.
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O thou who passest through our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
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Tools were made and born were hands, Every farmer understands.
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Energy is the only life, and is from the body and reason is the bound or outward circumference of energy. Energy is eternal delight.
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