My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white; White as an angel… — William Blake Copy Share Image
My mother groan'd, my father wept Into the dangerous world I leapt, Helpless, naked, piping load, Like a friend hid in a… — William Blake Copy Share Image
When my mother died I was very young, And my father sold me while yet my tongue Could scarcely cry weep weep… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Father, O father! what do we here In this land of unbelief and fear? — William Blake Copy Share Image
Struggling in my father's hands, Striving against my swaddling bands, Bound and weary, I thought best To sulk upon my mother's breast. — William Blake Copy Share Image
My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt. — William Blake Copy Share Image
Thinking as I do that the Creator of this world is a very cruel being, and being a worshipper of Christ, I… — William Blake Copy Share Image
“And, father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That picks… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Poetry fettered, fetters the human race. Nations are destroyed or flourish in proportion as their poetry, painting, and music are destroyed or flourish. — William Blake Copy Share Image
Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the Last Judgement draweth nigh. — William Blake Copy Share Image
The world of imagination is the world of eternity. It is the divine bosom into which we shall all go after death of the… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow. — William Blake Copy Share Image
Time is the mercy of Eternity; without Time's swiftness Which is the swiftest of all things, all were eternal torment. — William Blake Copy Share Image
The difference between a bad artist and a good one is: the bad artist seems to copy a great deal; the good one really… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Cruelty has a human heart, and jealousy a human face. Terror, the human form divine, And secrecy, the human dress. — William Blake Copy Share Image
Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained; and the restrainer or reason usurps its place & governs… — William Blake Copy Share Image
