Quote

My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white White as an angel is the English child, But I am black as if bereaved of light.

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
Angel
Child
White
Bereaved
Black
Bore
Mother
Bores
Light
Southern
Soul
Wild
Children
English

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The lamb misused breeds public strife And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
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Mutual forgiveness of each vice. Such are the Gates of Paradise.
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He who doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
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What is now proved was once only imagined.
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Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
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Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.
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The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.
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The countless gold of a merry heart, The rubies and pearls of a loving eye, The indolent never can bring to the mart, Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.
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They who forgive most shall be most forgiven.
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Knowledge of ideal beauty is not to be acquired. It is born with us. Innate ideas are in every man, born with him theyare truly himself.
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If you cannot imagine with the mind's eye much more than you can see with the mortal eye, you have a very poor imagination indeed.
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On no other ground Can I sow my seed Without tearing up Some stinking weed.
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I see the Past, Present & Future existing all at once Before me.
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Enthusiastic Admiration is the first Principle of Knowledge and its last.
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Wisdom is sold in a desolate marketplace where none can come to buy.
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Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame and my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.
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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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You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
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If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.
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