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Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,Dreaming o'er the joys of night.Sleep, sleep: in thy sleepLittle sorrows sit and weep.

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
Night
Weep
Dream
Joys
Dreaming
Bright
Sorrow
Joy
Sleep
Beauty
Sorrows

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The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
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In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
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Nothing can be more contemptible than to suppose Public Records to be true.
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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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The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
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Ages are All Equal. / But Genius is Always Above The Age.
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The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.
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How have you left the ancient love That bards of old enjoyed in you! The languid strings do scarcely move! The sound is forced, the notes are few!
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Every mortal loss is an immortal gain.
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I am more famed in Heaven for my works than I could well conceive. In my brain are studies & chambers filled with books & pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of Eternity before my mortal life and whose works are the delight & study of Archangels. Why, then, should I be anxious about the riches or fame of mortality?
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The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
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Each man must create his own system or else he is a slave to another mans
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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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The inquiry in England is not whether a man has talents and genius, but whether he is passive and polite and a virtuous ass and obedient to noblemen's opinions in art and science. If he is, he is a good man. If not, he must be starved.
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Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
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The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
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He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
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I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
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Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe, After night I do crowd, And with night will go I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increased For light doth seize my brain With frantic pain.
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Let the men do their duty & the women will be such wonders the female life lives from the light of the male: see a man's female dependants, you know the man.
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