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The worship of God is, Honouring his gifts in other men each according to his genius, and loving the greatest men best those who envy or calumniate great men hate God, for there is no other God.

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
Loving
Worship
Genius
Greatest
Hate
Honouring
Best
Gifts
Great
Envy
Men
According

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[L]et light Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day. O radiant morning.
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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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He who doubts from what he sees Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
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Let the men do their duty & the women will be such wonders the female life lives from the light of the male: see a man's female dependants, you know the man.
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A good local pub has much in common with a church, except that a pub is warmer, and there's more conversation.
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All wholesome food is caught without a net or trap.
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To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love All pray in their distress, And to these virtues of delight Return their thankfulness.
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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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Innocence dwells with Wisdom, but never with ignorance.
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For everything that lives is holy, life delights in life.
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Heaven is in a grain of sand.
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As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such are its powers.
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Nothing can be more contemptible than to suppose Public Records to be true.
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LOVE'S SECRET Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be For the gentle wind doth move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears. Ah! she did depart! Soon after she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh.
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How can a bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing?
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He who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
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Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy and pleasant and warm.
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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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Christianity is art and not money. Money is its curse.
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The lust of the goat is the bounty of God.
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