Quote

When the voices of children are heard on the greenAnd laughing is heard on the hill,My heart is at rest within my breastAnd everything else is still.

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
Heart
Heard
Within
Voice
Else
Hill
Stills
Voices
Still
Hills
Everything
Laughing
Children
Rest

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Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
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We are here to learn to endure the beams of love
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If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thru chinks of his cavern.
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He who shall teach the child to doubtThe rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
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The ruins of time build mansions in eternity.
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Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening, Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light Thy bright torch of love thy radiant crown Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
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Exuberance is beauty.
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Abstinence sows sand all over The ruddy limbs and flaming hair, But desire gratified Plants fruits of life and beauty there.
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To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
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Works of Art can only be produc'd in Perfection where the Man is either in Affluence or is Above the Care of it.
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He who loves his enemies betrays his friends this surely is not what Jesus meant.
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Mercy is the golden chain by which society is bound together.
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First thought is best in Art, second in other matters.
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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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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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All the destruction in Christian Europe has arisen from deism, which is natural religion.
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O why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
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It is the greatest of crimes to depress true art and science.
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The Fool shall not enter into Heaven let him be ever so Holy.
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How sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!
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