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Poetry, Painting & Music, the three Powers in man of conversing with Paradise, which the flood did not sweep away.

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
Paradise
Powers
Poetry
Painting
Away
Three
Conversing
Music
Sweep
Men
Flood

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Praises reap not! Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
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The naked women's body is a portion of eternity too great for the eye of man.
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To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes.
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Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
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England! awake! awake! awake! Jerusalem thy sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death And close her from thy ancient walls?
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I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world's release.
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Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.
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The Angel that presided o'er my birth Said, 'Little creature, formed of joy and mirth, Go love without the help of any thing on earth'.
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Love seeketh only self to please, To bind another to its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite.
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When the sun rises, do you not see a round disc of fire somewhat like a guinea? O no, no, I see an innumerable company of the heavenly host crying Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.
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My Brother starv'd between two Walls,His Children's Cry my Soul appalls
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God is the poetic genius in each of us.
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They who forgive most shall be most forgiven.
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The eye sees more than the heart knows.
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Gratitude is heaven itself.
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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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Embraces are comminglings from the head even to the feet, And not a pompous high priest entering by a secret place.
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Life delights in life.
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Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed.
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This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
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