O white-robed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Oh! why was I born with a different face? why was I not born like the rest of my race? when I… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the… — William Blake Copy Share Image
And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every Child may joy… — 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
