William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Quotes

  • ''Truly, My Satan, thou art but a Dunce,
    And dost not know the Garment from the Man.
    Every Harlot was a Virgin once,
    Nor can'st thou ever change Kate into Nan.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. For the Sexes: The Gates of Paradise (Epilogue, l. 1-4). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    997 person liked.
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  • ''I see every thing I paint in this world, but everybody does not see alike. To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. letter, Aug. 23, 1799. The Letters of William Blake (1956).
    809 person liked.
    486 person did not like.
  • ''For where'er the sun does shine,
    And where'er the rain does fall,
    Babe can never hunger there,
    Nor poverty the mind appall.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. Holy Thursday (l. 13-16). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    654 person liked.
    473 person did not like.
  • ''Want of money and the distress of a thief can never be alleged as the cause of his thieving, for many honest people endure greater hardships with fortitude. We must therefore seek the cause elsewhere than in want of money, for that is the miser's passion, not the thief's.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. letter, Aug. 23, 1799. The Letters of William Blake (1956).
    569 person liked.
    421 person did not like.
  • ''Is this a holy thing to see
    In a rich and fruitful land,
    Babes reduced to misery,
    Fed with cold and usurous hand?''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. Holy Thursday (l. 1-4). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    208 person liked.
    117 person did not like.
  • ''My mother bore me in the southern wild,
    And I am black, but O! my soul is white;''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. From SONGS OF INNOCENCE. The Little Black Boy (l. 1-2). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    84 person liked.
    28 person did not like.
  • ''Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
    Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. From SONGS OF INNOCENCE. Holy Thursday (l. 11-12). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    62 person liked.
    28 person did not like.
  • ''When I from black and he from white cloud free,
    And round the tent of Godlike lambs we joy,

    I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear
    To lean in joy upon our father's knee;
    And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
    And be like him, and he will then love me.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. From SONGS OF INNOCENCE. The Little Black Boy (l. 23-28). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    60 person liked.
    30 person did not like.
  • ''The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
    Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. Holy Thursday (l. 1-4). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    47 person liked.
    27 person did not like.
  • ''"And we are put on earth a little space,
    That we may learn to bear the beams of love,''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. From SONGS OF INNOCENCE. The Little Black Boy (l. 13-14). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
    138 person liked.
    29 person did not like.

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Best Poem of William Blake

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Read the full of A Poison Tree

Love's Secret

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!

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