Quote

I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine, But O, he lives in the moony light! I thought to find Love in the heat of day, But sweet Love is the comforter of 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
Light
Comforter
Thought
Sunshine
Find
Heat
Love
Hot
Lived
Sweet
Lives
Night

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If you have formed a circle to go into,Go into it yourself and see how you would do.
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Gratitude is heaven itself.
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Mercy, pity, and peace, Are the world's release.
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When a sinister person means to be your enemy, they always start by trying to become your friend.
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Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night.
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Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.
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Think not thou canst sigh a sigh And thy maker is not by Think not thou canst weep a tear And thy maker is not near.
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A dead body revenges not injuries.
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I see the Past, Present & Future existing all at once Before me.
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Man was made for joy and woe, and when this we rightly know through the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul to bind.
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He who replies to words of doubt doth put the light of knowledge out.
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None but blockheads copy each other.
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God only acts and is, in existing beings or men.
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The most sublime act is to set another before you.
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Want of money and the distress of a thief can never be alleged as the cause of his thieving, for many honest people endure greater hardships with fortitude. We must therefore seek the cause elsewhere than in want of money, for that is the miser's passion, not the thief s.
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Such, such were the joys When we all, girls and boys, In our youth time were seen On the Echoing Green.
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[L]et light Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day. O radiant morning.
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Energy is eternal delight.
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The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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Acts themselves alone are history, and these are neither the exclusive property of Hume, Gibbon nor Voltaire, Echard, Rapin, Plutarch, nor Herodotus. Tell me the Acts, O historian, and leave me to reason upon them as I please away with your reasoning and your rubbish. All that is not action is not worth reading.
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