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And is he honest who resists his genius or conscience only for the sake of present ease or gratification
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
Honest
Resists
Gratification
Ease
Sake
Conscience
Genius
Present
More quotes by William Blake
Pay attention to minute particulars. Take care of the little ones. Generalization and abstraction are the plea of the hypocrite, scoundrel, and knave.
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More! More! is the cry of a mistaken soul.
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My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white White as an angel is the English child, But I am black as if bereaved of light.
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Christ's crucifix shall be made an excuse for executing criminals.
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Each man must create his own system or else he is a slave to another mans
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For everything exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.
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The Sick Rose O Rose, thou art sick. The invisible worm That flies in the night In the howling storm Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
William Blake
I must create a system, or be enslav'd by another man's.
William Blake
Prudence is a rich, ugly, old maid courted by incapacity.
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If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
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He who makes his law a curse, by his own law shall surely die.
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As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such are its powers.
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Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe, After night I do crowd, And with night will go I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increased For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.
William Blake
Without Unceasing Practice nothing can be done. Practice is Art. If you leave off you are lost.
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Mere enthusiasm is the all in all... / Passion and expression are beauty itself.
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How can a bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing?
William Blake
Mercy, pity, and peace, Are the world's release.
William Blake
Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!
William Blake
The Errors of a Wise Man make your Rule Rather than the Perfections of a Fool.
William Blake
Where there is money there is no art.
William Blake