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O why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race?

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
Dishonour
Rest
Race
Face
Faces
Born
Different
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Painters are noted for being dissipated and wild.
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You throw the sand against the wind and the wind blows it back again.
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Ah, sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done Where the youth pined away with desire And the pale virgin shrouded in snow Arise from their graves, and aspire Where my sunflower wishes to go.
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Everything is beautiful in its own way. Exuberance is beauty.
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Some say that happiness is not good for mortals, & they ought to be answered that sorrow is not fit for immortals & is utterly useless to any one a blight never does good to a tree, & if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit, let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.
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Pride is a personal commitment. It is an attitude which separates excellence from mediocrity.
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He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.
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God and His Priest and King,...make up a heaven of our misery.
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When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree
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We are led to believe a lie When we see not through the eye.
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All futurity seems teeming with endless destruction never to be repelled Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
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The tigers of wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction.
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For the Eye altering alters all The Senses roll themselves in fear And the flat Earth becomes a Ball.
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To the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
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The Sick Rose O Rose, thou art sick. The invisible worm That flies in the night In the howling storm Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
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Hindsight is a wonderful thing but foresight is better, especially when it comes to saving life, or some pain!
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Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
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The foundation of empire is art and science. Remove them or degrade them, and the empire is no more. Empire follows art and not vice versa as Englishmen suppose.
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The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
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Imitation is criticism.
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