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

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The Vision of Christ that thou dost see, Is my vision's greatest enemy. Thine is the Friend of all Mankind, Mine speaks in Parables to the blind. Thine loves the same world that mine hates, Thy heaven-doors are my hell gates.
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The cut worm forgives the plow.
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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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As a man is, so he sees.
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Energy is the only life, and is from the body and reason is the bound or outward circumference of energy. Energy is eternal delight.
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Christ's crucifix shall be made an excuse for executing criminals.
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To my eye Rubens' colouring is most contemptible. His shadows are a filthy brown somewhat the colour of excrement.
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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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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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Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Can I see a falling tear, And not feel my sorrow's share? Can a father see his child Weep, nor be with sorrow filled? Can a mother sit and hear An infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!
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Can I see another's woe, and not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, and not seek for kind relief?
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A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.
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Acts themselves alone are history, and these are neither the exclusive property of Hume, Gibbon nor Voltaire, Echard, Rapin, Plutarch, nor Herodotus. Tell me the Acts, O historian, and leave me to reason upon them as I please away with your reasoning and your rubbish. All that is not action is not worth reading.
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The busy bee has no time for sorrow.
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No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.
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The look of love alarms Because 'tis filled with fire But the look of soft deceit Shall win the lover's hire.
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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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Painters are noted for being dissipated and wild.
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The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that won't believe. The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbeliever's fright.
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Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.
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