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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
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Sits
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Everything to be imagined is an image of truth.
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The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.
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I will not cease from mental fight Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand.
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Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine.
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Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
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In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
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The pure soul shall mount on native wings, . . . and cut a path into the heaven of glory.
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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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Celebrate your existence!
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You've always had the power right there in your shoes, you just had to learn it for yourself.
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You become what you behold.
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Make your own rules or be a slave to another man's.
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In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
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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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And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love')
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What is now proved was once only imagined.
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Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty !
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