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The mocker of Art is the mocker of Jesus.

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
Jesus
Art

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Pride is a personal commitment. It is an attitude which separates excellence from mediocrity.
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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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A dead body revenges not injuries.
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Time is the mercy of Eternity without Time's swiftness Which is the swiftest of all things, all were eternal torment.
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Ah, sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun, Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller's journey is done Where the youth pined away with desire And the pale virgin shrouded in snow Arise from their graves, and aspire Where my sunflower wishes to go.
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To be an Error and to be Cast out is a part of God's Design.
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Christ's crucifix shall be made an excuse for executing criminals.
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What seems to be, is, to those to whom it seems to be, and is productive of the most dreadful consequences to those to whom it seems to be, even of torments, despair, eternal death.
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On no other ground Can I sow my seed Without tearing up Some stinking weed.
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I have no name: I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am, Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee!
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Desperate remorse swallows the present in a quenchless rage.
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The true method of knowledge is experiment.
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O why was I born with a different face? Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
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I must create a system, or be enslav'd by another man's.
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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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The child's toys and the old man's reasons are the fruits of two seasons.
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All wholesome food is caught without a net or trap.
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A musician, an artist, an architect: the man or woman who is not one of these is not a Christian.
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O white-robed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that all who pass may read.
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If you have form'd a circle to go into, Go into it yourself, and see how you would do. They said this mystery never shall cease: The priest promotes war, and the soldier peace.
William Blake