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Mere enthusiasm is the all in all.
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
Mere
Enthusiasm
More quotes by William Blake
The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God.
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But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlots curse Blasts the new-born Infants tear And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
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Energy is an eternal delight.
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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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Down the winding cavern we groped our tedious way, till a void boundless as the nether sky appeared beneath us, and we held by the roots of trees and hung over this immensity but I said: if you please we will commit ourselves to this void and see whether providence is here also.
William Blake
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.
William Blake
Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
William Blake
Mercy, pity, and peace, Are the world's release.
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You throw the sand against the wind and the wind blows it back again.
William Blake
He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.
William Blake
To the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
William Blake
First thought is best in Art, second in other matters.
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Art is the tree of life. Science is the tree of death.
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The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that won't believe. The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
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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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You become what you behold.
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How do you know but ev’ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos’d by your senses five?
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He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be beloved by men.
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Pay attention to minute particulars. Take care of the little ones. Generalization and abstraction are the plea of the hypocrite, scoundrel, and knave.
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Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody poor. Mercy no more could be, If all were happy as we.
William Blake