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The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom, no clock can measure.

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
Measure
Wisdom
Hours
Artist
Time
Measured
Folly
Clock

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In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between, there are doors.
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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.
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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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I am under the direction of messengers from Heaven daily and nightly.
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Embraces are comminglings from the head even to the feet, And not a pompous high priest entering by a secret place.
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As we are, so we see.
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Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime
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Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
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The vision of Christ that thou dost see Is my vision's greatest enemy.
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If Christianity was morality, Socrates would be the Saviour.
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There is a place where Contrarieties are equally True.
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And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy to hear.
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The child's toys and the old man's reasons are the fruits of two seasons.
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The Whole Business of Man is The Arts, & All Things Common.
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Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share?
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He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
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LOVE'S SECRET Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be For the gentle wind doth move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears. Ah! she did depart! Soon after she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh.
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You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
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Everything is beautiful in its own way. Exuberance is beauty.
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The bird a nest, the spider a web, man friendship.
William Blake