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Those who enter the gates of heaven are not beings who have no passions or who have curbed the passions, but those who have cultivated an understanding of them.
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
Emotional
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Heaven
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More quotes by William Blake
The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest.
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That the Jews assumed a right exclusively to the benefits of God will be a lasting witness against them and the same will it be against Christians.
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The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from Hell a human soul.
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The Whole Business of Man is The Arts, & All Things Common.
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Nature in darkness groans and men are bound to sullen contemplation in the night: restless they turn on beds of sorrow in their inmost brain feeling the crushing wheels, they rise, they write the bitter words of stern philosophy and knead the bread of knowledge with tears and groans.
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O God, protect me from my friends, that they have not power over me. Thou hast giv'n me power to protect myself from thy bitterest enemies.
William Blake
Grown old in love from seven till seven times seven,I oft have wished for Hell for ease from Heaven.
William Blake
Life delights in life.
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The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.
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When the doors of perception are cleansed, men will see things as they truly are, infinite.
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The countless gold of a merry heart, The rubies and pearls of a loving eye, The indolent never can bring to the mart, Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.
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No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.
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'Come hither, my boy, tell me what thou seest there?' 'A fool tangled in a religious snare.'
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He who has few things to desire cannot have many to fear.
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Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm.
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The most sublime act is to set another before you.
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Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments let us taste Thy morn and evening breath scatter thy pearls Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
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As we are, so we see.
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A dog starved at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state.
William Blake