William Blake Quotes
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I turn my eyes to the schools & universities of Europe And there behold the loom of Locke whose woof rages dire, Washed by the water-wheels of Newton. Black the cloth In heavy wreaths folds over every nation; cruel works Of many wheels I view, wheel without wheel, with cogs tyrannic Moving by compulsion each other: not as those in Eden, which Wheel within wheel in freedom revolve, in harmony & peace.
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Man was made for joy and woe, and when this we rightly know through the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul to bind.
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The true method of knowledge is experiment.
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Everything is beautiful in its own way. Exuberance is beauty.
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Why a tender curb upon the youthful burning boy? Why a little curtain of flesh on the bed of our desire?
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Hold infinity in the palm of your hand.
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The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.
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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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He who pretends to be either painter or engraver without being a master of drawing is an imposter.
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Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.
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My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt.
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Error is created; truth is eternal.
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Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
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Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; and my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.
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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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When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do.
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The Man who pretends to be a modest enquirer into the truth of a self-evident thing is a Knave.
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The fields from Islington to Marybone, To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood, Were builded over with pillars of gold; And there Jerusalem's pillars stood.
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It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.
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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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Nothing is real beyond imaginative patterns men make of reality.
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If you cannot imagine with the mind's eye much more than you can see with the mortal eye, you have a very poor imagination indeed.
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The little ones leaped, and shouted, and laugh'd And all the hills echoed.
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I rest not from my great task! | To open the Eternal Worlds, | to open the immortal Eyes of Man | Inwards into the Worlds of Thought; | Into eternity, ever expanding | In the Bosom of God, | The Human Imagination