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
Lived
Sweet
Lives
Night
Light
Comforter
Thought
Sunshine
Find
Heat
Love
Hot

More quotes by William Blake

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God keep me from the divinity of Yes and Nothe Yea Nay Creeping Jesus, from supposing Up and Down to be the same thing as allexperimentalists must suppose.
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Heaven is in a grain of sand.
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Nothing is real beyond imaginative patterns men make of reality.
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The atoms of Democritus And Newton's particles of light Are sands upon the Red Sea shore, Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.
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He who replies to words of doubt doth put the light of knowledge out.
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The ruins of time build mansions in eternity.
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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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He who loves his enemies betrays his friends this surely is not what Jesus meant.
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He who makes his law a curse, by his own law shall surely die.
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Wisdom is sold in a desolate marketplace where none can come to buy.
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The world of imagination is the world of eternity. It is the divine bosom into which we shall all go after death of the vegetative body.
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The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
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Never seek to tell thy love Love that never told can be. For the gentle wind does move silently.. invisibly.
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Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
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Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained and the restrainer or reason usurps its place & governs the unwilling. And being restrain'd it by degrees becomes passive till it is only the shadow of desire.
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Does the Eagle know what is in the pit Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod, Or Love in a golden bowl?
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Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
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Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame and my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.
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I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.
William Blake
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He who shall teach the child to doubtThe rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
William Blake