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Where any view of money exists, art cannot be carried on.

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
View
Views
Art
Money
Cannot
Carried
Exists

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The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity, too great for the eye of man.
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Art is the tree of life. Science is the tree of death.
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When the voices of children are heard on the greenAnd laughing is heard on the hill,My heart is at rest within my breastAnd everything else is still.
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None but blockheads copy each other.
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God is the poetic genius in each of us.
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O white-robed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that all who pass may read.
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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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Each man must create his own system or else he is a slave to another mans
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Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine.
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Such, such were the joys When we all, girls and boys, In our youth time were seen On the Echoing Green.
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May God us keep From Single vision and Newton's sleep.
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If Christianity was morality, Socrates would be the Saviour.
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My silks and fine array, My smiles and languished air, By love are driv'n away And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have.
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Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
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I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine, But O, he lives in the moony light! I thought to find Love in the heat of day, But sweet Love is the comforter of night.
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How can a bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing?
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The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion, the horse, how he shall take his prey.
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Degrade first the Arts if you'd Mankind Degrade. Hire Idiots to Paint with cold light & hot shade: Give high Price for the worst, leave the best in disgrace, And with Labours of Ignorance fill every place.
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General good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocite, flatterer.
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The look of love alarms Because 'tis filled with fire But the look of soft deceit Shall win the lover's hire.
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