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Forgive what you do not approve & love me for this energetic exertion of my talent

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
Energetic
Forgive
Forgiving
Talent
Love
Approve
Exertion

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Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead.
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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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But to go to school in a summer morn, O! It drives all joy away Under a cruel eye outworn, The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay.
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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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Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?
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O thou who passest through our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
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Rhetoric completes the tools of learning. Dialectic zeros in on the logic of things, of particular systems of thought or subjects. Rhetoric takes the next grand step and brings all these subjects together into one whole.
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Execution is the chariot of genius.
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A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage.
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As a man is, so he sees.
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Every tear from every eyeBecomes a babe in eternity.
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The pride of the peacock is the glory of God.
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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.
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As the caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
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I see the Past, Present & Future existing all at once Before me.
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Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
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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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He who kisses joy as it flies by will live in eternity's sunrise.
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Every harlot was a virgin once.
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Heaven is in a grain of sand.
William Blake