Quote

In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

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
Voice
Manacles
Fear
Sweepers
Every
Thames
Mind
Bans
Men
Infant
Oppression
Cry
Hear

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I myself do nothing. The Holy Spirit accomplishes all through me.
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Since all the riches of this world May be gifts from the Devil and earthly kings, I should suspect that I worshipp'd the Devil If I thank'd my God for worldly things.
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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.
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God forbid that Truth should be confined to Mathematical Demonstration!
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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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'Come hither, my boy, tell me what thou seest there?' 'A fool tangled in a religious snare.'
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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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Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.
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How do you know but ev’ry Bird that cuts the airy way, Is an immense world of delight, clos’d by your senses five?
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Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks: He withers all in silence, and his hand Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
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The Whole Business of Man is The Arts, & All Things Common.
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O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit Beneath my shady roof there thou may'st rest, And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe And all the daughters of the year shall dance! Sing now the lusty song of fruit and flowers.
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Down the winding cavern we groped our tedious way, till a void boundless as the nether sky appeared beneath us, and we held by the roots of trees and hung over this immensity but I said: if you please we will commit ourselves to this void and see whether providence is here also.
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The glory of Christianity is to conquer by forgiveness.
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What is a wife and what is a harlot? What is a church and what is a theatre? are they two and not one? Can they exist separate? Are not religion and politics the same thing? Brotherhood is religion. O demonstrations of reason dividing families in cruelty and pride!
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She who dwells with me whom I have loved with such communion, that no place on earth can ever be solitude to me.
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