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Heaven is in a grain of sand.

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
Grain
Sand
Heaven

More quotes by William Blake

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The nakedness of woman is the work of God.
William Blake
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Mysteries are not to be solved. They eye goes blind when it only wants to see why.
William Blake
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The difference between a bad artist and a good one is: the bad artist seems to copy a great deal the good one really does.
William Blake
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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!
William Blake
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As I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius which to Angels look like torment and insanity, I collected some of their Proverbs.
William Blake
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Where mercy, love, and pity dwell, there God is dwelling too.
William Blake
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The crow wished everything was black, the Owl, that everything was white.
William Blake
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Naught can deform the human race Like to the armor's iron brace.
William Blake
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Harmony of colouring is destructive of art? it is like the smile of a fool.
William Blake
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Commerce is so far from being beneficial to arts, or to empire, that it is destructive of both, as all their history shows, for the above reason of individual merit being its great hatred. Empires flourish till they become commercial, and then they are scattered abroad to the four winds.
William Blake
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Execution is the chariot of genius.
William Blake
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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.
William Blake
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And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy to hear.
William Blake
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Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead.
William Blake
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The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
William Blake
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How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?
William Blake
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Opposition is true friendship.
William Blake
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Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
William Blake
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When Sir Joshua Reynolds died All Nature was degraded
William Blake
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He who wants, but doesn't act, is a pest.
William Blake