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He who wants, but doesn't act, is a pest.
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
Pest
Pests
Motivational
Wants
Inspirational
Action
Doesn
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For all eternity, I forgive you and you forgive me.
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One law for the lion and ox is oppression.
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None but blockheads copy each other.
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When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree
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Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
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As we are, so we see.
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Where any view of money exists, art cannot be carried on.
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We are not meant to resolve all contradictions but to live with them and rise above them.
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To see a world in a grain of sand And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour.
William Blake
And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tears And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles.
William Blake
This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
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Both read the Bible day and night, but thou read black where I read white.
William Blake
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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Grown old in love from seven till seven times seven,I oft have wished for Hell for ease from Heaven.
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The imagination is not a state: it is the human existence itself.
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To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
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Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!
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Innocence dwells with Wisdom, but never with ignorance.
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When the stars threw down their spears, and watered heaven with their tears, did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
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The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead.
William Blake