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It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted.
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
Patience
Talk
Easy
Thing
Afflicted
Affliction
More quotes by William Blake
O why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
William Blake
For the Eye altering alters all The Senses roll themselves in fear And the flat Earth becomes a Ball.
William Blake
When the doors of perception are cleansed, men will see things as they truly are, infinite.
William Blake
The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels and God, and at liberty when of Devils and Hell, is because he was a true poet and of the Devil's party without knowing it.
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Mercy, pity, and peace, Are the world's release.
William Blake
As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such are its powers.
William Blake
Jesus & his apostles & disciples were all artists
William Blake
We are here to learn to endure the beams of love
William Blake
The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
William Blake
There is a place where Contrarieties are equally True.
William Blake
The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
William Blake
None but blockheads copy each other.
William Blake
Execution is the chariot of genius.
William Blake
I am under the direction of messengers from Heaven daily and nightly.
William Blake
To my eye Rubens' colouring is most contemptible. His shadows are a filthy brown somewhat the colour of excrement.
William Blake
If you trap the moment before it's ripe, The tears of repentence you'll certainly wipe But if once you let the ripe moment go You can never wipe off the tears of woe.
William Blake
Every mortal loss is an immortal gain.
William Blake
God and His Priest and King,...make up a heaven of our misery.
William Blake
How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?
William Blake
Every Night and every Morn Some to Misery are born. Every Morn and every Night Some are born to Sweet Delight, Some are born to Endless Night.
William Blake
