Quote

I give you the end of a golden string, Only wind it into a ball, It will lead you in at Heaven's gate Built in Jerusalem's wall.

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
Wall
String
Wind
Strings
Heaven
Gates
Ends
Ball
Give
Golden
Giving
Balls
Lead
Jerusalem
Built
Gate

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But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlots curse Blasts the new-born Infants tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
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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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Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
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The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow
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The Stolen and Perverted Writings of Homer & Ovid, of Plato & Cicero, which all men ought to contemn, are set up by artifice against the Sublime of the Bible
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Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.
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The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
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I rest not from my great task! | To open the Eternal Worlds, | to open the immortal Eyes of Man | Inwards into the Worlds of Thought | Into eternity, ever expanding | In the Bosom of God, | The Human Imagination
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The world of imagination is the world of eternity.
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All futurity seems teeming with endless destruction never to be repelled Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
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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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All wholesome food is caught without a net or trap.
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Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves the feet of angels bright unseen they pour blessing, and joy without ceasing, on each bud and blossom, and each sleeping bosom.
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Forgive what you do not approve & love me for this energetic exertion of my talent
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We are led to believe a lie When we see not through the eye.
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England! awake! awake! awake! Jerusalem thy sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death And close her from thy ancient walls?
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The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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If a thing loves, it is infinite.
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Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
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