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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
Mercy
Peace
World
Release
Pity
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O Earth, O Earth, return! Arise from out the dewy grass Night is worn And the morn Rises from the slumbrous mass.
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I have no name: I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am, Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee!
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For everything exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.
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The cut worm forgives the plow.
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The Woman that does not love your Frowns Will never embrace your smiles.
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The Man who pretends to be a modest enquirer into the truth of a self-evident thing is a Knave.
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Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy.
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When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep. So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
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England! awake! awake! awake! Jerusalem thy sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death And close her from thy ancient walls?
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What is now proved was once only imagined.
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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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Does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so?
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Prisons are built with stones of Law. Brothels with the bricks of religion.
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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy to hear.
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What seems to be, is, to those to whom it seems to be, and is productive of the most dreadful consequences to those to whom it seems to be, even of torments, despair, eternal death.
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The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
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The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:While the Lily white shall in love delight,Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
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