The pure soul shall mount on native wings, . . . and cut a path into the heaven of glory. — William Blake Copy Share Image
For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life And strength and… — William Blake Copy Share Image
How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy,… — William Blake Copy Share Image
A dog starv'd at the master's gate Predicts the ruin of the State. A horse misus'd upon the road Calls to heaven… — William Blake Copy Share Image
He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And… — William Blake Copy Share Image
Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou… — 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
