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The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.
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
High
Heaven
Bower
Night
Sits
Like
Smiles
Delight
Silent
Moon
Flower
More quotes by William Blake
You become what you behold.
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Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction? Or the glistening eye to the poison of a smile?
William Blake
If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.
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Without Unceasing Practice nothing can be done. Practice is Art. If you leave off you are lost.
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Energy is an eternal delight.
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O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine there hast thou build thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
William Blake
Dip him in the river who loves water.
William Blake
For where'er the sun does shine, And where'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.
William Blake
Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy.
William Blake
For everything that lives is holy, life delights in life.
William Blake
The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
William Blake
Without contraries there is no progression.
William Blake
Since all the riches of this world May be gifts from the Devil and earthly kings, I should suspect that I worshipp'd the Devil If I thank'd my God for worldly things.
William Blake
Think in the morning. Act in the noon. Eat in the evening. Sleep in the night.
William Blake
But if at church they would give some ale. And a pleasant fire our souls to regale. We'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day, Nor ever once from the church to stray.
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The person who does not believe in miracles surely makes it certain that he or she will never take part in one.
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I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
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Colouring does not depend on where the colours are put, but on where the lights and darks are put, and all depends on form and outline, on where that is put.
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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
If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they'd immediately go out.
William Blake