Quotes from William Blake

For Mercy has a human heart; Pity, a human face; And Love, the human form divine: And Peace the human dress.

Little boy, Full of joy; Little girl, Sweet and small; Cock does crow, So do you; Merry voice, Infant noise; Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year.

He did not mean that his parents neglected him or that he found no friend. Rather, he meant that... our only sources of joy and mirth lie within us, in the mind, rather than outside us, on the earth. Blake's parents were loving and giving, but they could not give him the heavenly beauty and spiritual peace which is to be found only within us, in Christ, or, as Blake came to call Him, in the Human Imagination.

Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief?

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand

I will not endure this thing! I alone withstand to death, This outrage! Ah me! how sick & pale you all stand round me! Ah me! pitiable ones! do you also go the deaths vale? All you my Friends & Brothers! all you my beloved Companions! Have you also caught the infection of Sin & stern Repentance? I see Disease arise upon you! yet speak to me and give Me some comfort: why do you all stand silent? I alone Remain in permanent strength.

In a time of dearth, come forth with weight and measure.

Tyger, tyger, burning bright In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could Frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? - The Tyger

THE LILY The modest Rose puts forth a thorn, The humble sheep a threat'ning horn: While the Lily white shall in love delight, Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright. THE GARDEN OF LOVE I laid me down upon a bank, Where Love lay sleeping; I heard among the rushes dank Weeping, weeping.

So I turned to the Garden of Love That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tombstones where flowers should be; And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds, And binding with briars my joys and desires.

S? vezi o Lume într-un gr?unte de nisip, Åži un Paradis într-o floare de câmp, S? Å£ii Infinitul în palm?, Åži Eternitatea într-o or?.

Selfish father of men! Cruel, jealous, selfish fear! Can delight, Chained in night, The virgins of youth and morning bear. 'Does spring hide its joy When buds and blossoms grow? Does the sower Sow by night, Or the plowman in darkness plow? 'Break this heavy chain, That does freeze my bones around! Selfish, vain, Eternal bane, That free Love with bondage bound.

Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? Or Love in a golden bowl?

His pains he soon forgot: Lured by her beauty outside of himself in shadowy grief. Two Wills they had; Two Intellects: & not as in times of old. Silent they wanderd hand in hand like two Infants wandring From Enion in the desarts, terrified at each others beauty Envying each other yet desiring, in all devouring Love

while the beasts of prey, Come from caverns deep, Viewed the maid asleep

art can never exist without naked beauty displayed

Now hear a plain fact: Swedenborg has not written one new truth. Now hear another: he has written all the old falsehoods.

Roses are planted where thorns grow, and on the barren heath sing the honey bees.

He who has suffer'd you to impose on him knows you.

God, so long worshipp'd, departs as a lamp / Without oil.

And because I am happy, and dance and sing, They think they have done me no injury.

Praise is the practice of Art.

Work up imagination to the state of vision.

Without Unceasing Practice nothing can be done. Practice is Art. If you leave off you are lost.