Quote

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.

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
Doe
Display
Soul
Realms
Human
Appears
Humans
Souls
Poor
Night
Form
Light
Dwell

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Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.
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Gratitude, in itself, is heaven.
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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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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.
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As a man is, so he sees.
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Tools were made and born were hands, Every farmer understands.
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The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
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To generalize is to be an idiot.
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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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Where cheating is, there's mischief there.
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The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
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The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
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Let every Christian, as much as in him lies, engage himself openly and publicly, before all the World, in some mental pursuit for the Building up of Jerusalem.
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Innate ideas are in every man, born with him they are truly himself. The man who says that we have no innate ideas must be a fool and knave, having no conscience or innate science.
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Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm.
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When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry weep weep weep weep. So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
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Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.
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Mans desires are limited by his perceptions none can desire what he has not perceived.
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Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
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