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Where others see but the dawn coming over the hill, I see the soul of God shouting for joy.
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
Joy
Others
Soul
Shouting
Hill
Hills
Dawn
Coming
More quotes by William Blake
Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds Kiss thy perfumed garments let us taste Thy morn and evening breath scatter thy pearls Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
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A musician, an artist, an architect: the man or woman who is not one of these is not a Christian.
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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.
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Without Unceasing Practice nothing can be done. Practice is Art. If you leave off you are lost.
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If a thing loves, it is infinite.
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He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
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God appears, and God is Light, to those poor souls who dwell in Night but does a Human Form display to those who dwell in realms of Day.
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When the voices of children are heard on the greenAnd laughing is heard on the hill,My heart is at rest within my breastAnd everything else is still.
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The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks.
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And is he honest who resists his genius or conscience only for the sake of present ease or gratification
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The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.
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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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The naked women's body is a portion of eternity too great for the eye of man.
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Why cannot the ear be closed to its own destruction? Or the glistening eye to the poison of a smile?
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Nature in darkness groans and men are bound to sullen contemplation in the night: restless they turn on beds of sorrow in their inmost brain feeling the crushing wheels, they rise, they write the bitter words of stern philosophy and knead the bread of knowledge with tears and groans.
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The gulfing whale was like a dot in the spell. Yet look upon it, and 'twould size and swell To its huge self, and the minutest fish Would pass the very hardest gazer's wish, And show his little eye's anatomy.
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The fox provides for himself, but God provides for the lion.
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He who loves his enemies betrays his friends this surely is not what Jesus meant.
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The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
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To my eye Rubens' colouring is most contemptible. His shadows are a filthy brown somewhat the colour of excrement.
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