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The generations of men run on in the tide of time, but leave their destined lineaments permanent for ever and ever.
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
Ever
Lineaments
Men
Tide
Time
Tides
Destined
Permanent
Generations
Leave
Running
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Silent as despairing love, and strong as jealousy.
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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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Men are admitted into heaven not because they have curbed or governed their passions, but because they have cultivate their understandings.
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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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First thought is best in Art, second in other matters.
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Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
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He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty.
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Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime
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O God, protect me from my friends, that they have not power over me. Thou hast giv'n me power to protect myself from thy bitterest enemies.
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The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.
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Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.
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Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks: He withers all in silence, and his hand Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
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If others had not been foolish, we should be so.
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Ah, sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done Where the youth pined away with desire And the pale virgin shrouded in snow Arise from their graves, and aspire Where my sunflower wishes to go.
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Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
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To cast aside from Poetry, all that is not Inspiration
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Shame is pride's cloak.
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If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thru chinks of his cavern.
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The strongest poison ever known came from Caesar's laurel crown.
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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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