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When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree

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
Every
Design
Cold
Grow
Tree
Grows
Settles
Nations
Commerce
Business
Settling
Art
Arts

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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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Why stand we here trembling around, calling on God for help, and not ourselves, in whom God dwells?
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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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He who kisses joy as it flies by will live in eternity's sunrise.
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Active Evil is better than Passive Good.
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Jesus & his apostles & disciples were all artists
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The eye altering, alters all.
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Harmony of colouring is destructive of art? it is like the smile of a fool.
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All pictures that's painted with sense and with thought / Are painted by madmen as sure as a groat / For the greater the fool in the pencil more blest, / And when they are drunk they always paint best.
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Life delights in life.
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Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
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Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks: He withers all in silence, and his hand Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
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The pride of the peacock is the glory of God. The lust of the goat is the bounty of God. The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
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Some say that happiness is not good for mortals, & they ought to be answered that sorrow is not fit for immortals & is utterly useless to any one a blight never does good to a tree, & if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit, let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.
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There is a smile of love, And there is a smile of deceit, And there is a smile of smiles In which these two smiles meet.
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The generations of men run on in the tide of time, but leave their destined lineaments permanent for ever and ever.
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Gratitude is heaven itself there could be no heaven without gratitude.
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A dead body revenges not injuries.
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The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.
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O why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
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