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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
Dreaming
Bright
Sorrow
Joy
Sleep
Beauty
Sorrows
Night
Weep
Dream
Joys

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The Angel that presided o'er my birth Said, 'Little creature, formed of joy and mirth, Go love without the help of any thing on earth'.
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Enlightenment means taking full responsibility for your life.
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Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
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Execution is the chariot of genius.
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Jesus & his apostles & disciples were all artists
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I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.
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The worship of God is, Honouring his gifts in other men each according to his genius, and loving the greatest men best those who envy or calumniate great men hate God, for there is no other God.
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Prudence is a rich, ugly, old maid courted by incapacity.
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Each man must create his own system or else he is a slave to another mans
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The hours of folly are measured by the clock but of wisdom, no clock can measure.
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Make your own rules or be a slave to another man's.
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The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:While the Lily white shall in love delight,Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
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Without contraries there is no progression.
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But if at church they would give some ale. And a pleasant fire our souls to regale. We'd sing and we'd pray all the live long day, Nor ever once from the church to stray.
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This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
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Nothing can be more contemptible than to suppose Public Records to be true.
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Man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.
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Come live, and be merry, and join with me, To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha ha he!
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[L]et light Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day. O radiant morning.
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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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