Quote

The spirits of the air live on the smells Of fruit and joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.

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
Light
Smell
Gardens
Live
Fruit
Smells
Garden
Sits
Air
Spirits
Singing
Autumn
Tree
Round
Joy
Rounds
Spirit
Trees
Pinions

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A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage.
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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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May God us keep From Single vision and Newton's sleep.
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For where'er the sun does shine, And where'er the rain does fall, Babe can never hunger there, Nor poverty the mind appall.
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Where mercy, love, and pity dwell, there God is dwelling too.
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The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
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How can a bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing?
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Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
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There is no mistake so great as the mistake of not going on.
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Lives in eternity's sun rise.
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Make your own rules or be a slave to another man's.
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The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
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Gratitude is heaven itself there could be no heaven without gratitude.
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The ignorant Insults of Individuals will not hinder me from doing my duty to my Art
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Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: Pipe a song about a Lamb. So I piped with merry cheer Piper, pipe that song again. So I piped he wept to hear.
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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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The stars are threshed, and the souls are threshed from their husks.
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A dead body revenges not injuries.
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Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
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