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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
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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
Dark
Invisible
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Destroy
Night
Thou
Howling
Art
Bed
Crimson
Doe
Rose
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Love
Sick
Flies
Life
Joy
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Storm
More quotes by William Blake
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:While the Lily white shall in love delight,Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
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The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
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Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
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Christianity is art and not money. Money is its curse.
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When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do.
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Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
William Blake
Nothing can be more contemptible than to suppose Public Records to be true.
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Man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.
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The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.
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You cannot have Liberty in this world without what you call Moral Virtue, and you cannot have Moral Virtue without the slavery of that half of the human race who hate what you call Moral Virtue.
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He who shall teach the child to doubtThe rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
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Where any view of money exists, art cannot be carried on.
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God keep me from the divinity of Yes and Nothe Yea Nay Creeping Jesus, from supposing Up and Down to be the same thing as allexperimentalists must suppose.
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Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
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None but blockheads copy each other.
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General knowledges are those knowledges that idiots possess.
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Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
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Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.
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Nothing is real beyond imaginative patterns men make of reality.
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One Power alone makes a Poet: Imagination. The Divine Vision.
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