Quote

The hand of Vengeance found the Bed To which the Purple Tyrant fled The iron hand crush'd the tyrant's head And became Tyrant in his stead.

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
Head
Tyrant
Hand
Vengeance
Found
Purple
Hands
Tyrants
Crush
Iron
Bed
Stead
Became
Fled

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Children of the future age Reading this indignant page Know that in a former time Love, sweet love, was thought a crime
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The generations of men run on in the tide of time, but leave their destined lineaments permanent for ever and ever.
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Man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.
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For everything exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.
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Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!
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Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
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Without contraries there is no progression.
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Man was made for joy and woe, and when this we rightly know through the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul to bind.
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The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laugh'd And all the hills echoed
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One thought fills immensity.
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Some will say, Is not God alone the Prolific? I answer, God only Acts & Is, in existing beings or Men.
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He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be beloved by men.
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Pay attention to minute particulars. Take care of the little ones. Generalization and abstraction are the plea of the hypocrite, scoundrel, and knave.
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As we are, so we see.
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Everything is beautiful in its own way. Exuberance is beauty.
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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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I asked a thief to steal me a peach: He turned up his eyes. I asked a lithe lady to lie her down: Holy and meek, she cries. As soon as I went An angel came. He winked at the thief And smiled at the dame- And without one word spoke Had a peach from the tree, And 'twixt earnest and joke Enjoyed the lady.
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