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On no other ground Can I sow my seed Without tearing up Some stinking weed.

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
Without
Stinking
Tearing
Seed
Weed
Seeds
Ground

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Love seeketh only self to please, To bind another to its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.
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I see through my eyes, not with them.
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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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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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He who replies to words of doubt doth put the light of knowledge out.
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The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
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Each man must create his own system or else he is a slave to another mans
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Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.
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Work up imagination to the state of vision.
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There is a place where Contrarieties are equally True.
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The mocker of Art is the mocker of Jesus.
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To create a little flower is the labour of ages.
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He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.
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Men are admitted into heaven not because they have curbed or governed their passions, but because they have cultivate their understandings.
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The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laugh'd And all the hills echoed
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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.
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The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
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I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.
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Gratitude is heaven itself.
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When Sir Joshua Reynolds died All Nature was degraded
William Blake