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Harmony of colouring is destructive of art? it is like the smile of a fool.
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
Colouring
Destructive
Harmony
Smile
Fool
Art
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More quotes by William Blake
Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.
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You throw the sand against the wind and the wind blows it back again.
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When Sir Joshua Reynolds died All Nature was degraded The King dropped a tear in the Queen's ear, And all his pictures faded.
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My Brother starv'd between two Walls,His Children's Cry my Soul appalls
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Nothing is real beyond imaginative patterns men make of reality.
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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.
William Blake
The Errors of a Wise Man make your Rule Rather than the Perfections of a Fool.
William Blake
And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountains green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England's pleasant pastures seen?
William Blake
Mans desires are limited by his perceptions none can desire what he has not perceived.
William Blake
I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.
William Blake
God only acts and is, in existing beings or men.
William Blake
He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
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Where cheating is, there's mischief there.
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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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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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Although wine when it is read somewhat lacks the savour of wine when it is drunk, wine remains a very pleasant thing both to read about and to chat about.
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Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
William Blake
A dog starved at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state.
William Blake
The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
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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.
William Blake