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The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.
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
Great
Sword
Men
Portions
Lions
Destructive
Howling
Rage
Raging
Eternity
Stormy
Sea
Roaring
Eye
Wolves
More quotes by William Blake
He who has few things to desire cannot have many to fear.
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Do what you will this life's a fiction, And is made up of contradiction.
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For all eternity, I forgive you and you forgive me.
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Truth can never be told so as to be understood and not be believed.
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Heaven is in a grain of sand.
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Mans desires are limited by his perceptions none can desire what he has not perceived.
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What has reason to do with the art of painting?
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Knowledge is Life with wings
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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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Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
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If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.
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Both read the Bible day and night, but thou read black where I read white.
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Men are admitted into heaven not because they have curbed and governed their passions or have no passions, but because they have cultivated their understandings. The treasures of heaven are not negations of passion, but realities of intellect, from which all the passions emanate uncurbed in their eternal glory.
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You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
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thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast.
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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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The eye altering, alters all.
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The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
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I am more famed in Heaven for my works than I could well conceive. In my brain are studies & chambers filled with books & pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of Eternity before my mortal life and whose works are the delight & study of Archangels. Why, then, should I be anxious about the riches or fame of mortality?
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To the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
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