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Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.
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
Release
Pity
Mercy
Peace
World
More quotes by William Blake
Mutual forgiveness of each vice. Such are the Gates of Paradise.
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The foundation of empire is art and science. Remove them or degrade them, and the empire is no more. Empire follows art and not vice versa as Englishmen suppose.
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I will not cease from mental fight Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand.
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A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage.
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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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The Man who never in his Mind & Thoughts travel'd to Heaven Is No Artist.
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Rhetoric completes the tools of learning. Dialectic zeros in on the logic of things, of particular systems of thought or subjects. Rhetoric takes the next grand step and brings all these subjects together into one whole.
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If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they'd immediately go out.
William Blake
Although wine when it is read somewhat lacks the savour of wine when it is drunk, wine remains a very pleasant thing both to read about and to chat about.
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Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from Hell a human soul.
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My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white White as an angel is the English child, But I am black as if bereaved of light.
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I am in you and you in me, mutual in divine love.
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He who loves his enemies betrays his friends this surely is not what Jesus meant.
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And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles.
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Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.
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If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
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If Christianity was morality, Socrates would be the Saviour.
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I asked a thief to steal me a peach: He turned up his eyes. I asked a lithe lady to lie her down: Holy and meek, she cries. As soon as I went An angel came. He winked at the thief And smiled at the dame- And without one word spoke Had a peach from the tree, And 'twixt earnest and joke Enjoyed the lady.
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Without minute neatness of execution, the sublime cannot exist! Grandeur of ideas is founded on precision of ideas.
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Nothing is real beyond imaginative patterns men make of reality.
William Blake