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Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm.
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
Healthy
Cold
Church
House
Mother
Ale
Pleasant
Warm
Dear
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Mere enthusiasm is the all in all.
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Make your own rules or be a slave to another man's.
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A tyrant is the worst disease, and the cause of all others.
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General knowledges are those knowledges that idiots possess.
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A dog starv'd at the master's gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A horse misus'd upon the road Calls to heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear, A skylark wounded on the wing, A cherubim does cease to sing.
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Grown old in love from seven till seven times seven,I oft have wished for Hell for ease from Heaven.
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When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do.
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What has reasoning to do with painting?
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If you have formed a circle to go into,Go into it yourself and see how you would do.
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O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine there hast thou build thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
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There is a place where Contrarieties are equally True.
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thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast.
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Think not thou canst sigh a sigh And thy maker is not by Think not thou canst weep a tear And thy maker is not near.
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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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Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained and the restrainer or reason usurps its place & governs the unwilling. And being restrain'd it by degrees becomes passive till it is only the shadow of desire.
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I see through my eyes, not with them.
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The fields from Islington to Marybone, To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood, Were builded over with pillars of gold And there Jerusalem's pillars stood.
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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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Shame is pride's cloak.
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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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