William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Quotes

  • ''I went to the Garden of Love,
    And saw what I never had seen:
    A Chapel was built in the midst,
    Where I used to play on the green.
    And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
    And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. The Garden of Love (l. 1-6). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
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  • ''Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise,
    My person degrade & my temper chastise;
    And the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame;
    And my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. letter, Aug. 16, 1803. Complete Writings, ed. Geoffrey Keynes (1957).
    1 person liked.
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  • ''And I saw it was filled with graves,
    And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
    And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
    And binding with briars my joys and desires.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. The Garden of Love (l. 9-12). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
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  • ''Since the French Revolution Englishmen are all intermeasurable one by another, certainly a happy state of agreement to which I for one do not agree.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. Letter, October 24, 1910, to George Cumberland. Complete Writings, ed. Geoffrey Keynes (1957).
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  • ''Every harlot was a virgin once.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. The Gates of Paradise, epilogue, l. 3 (c. 1818), repr. In Complete Writings, ed. Geoffrey Keynes (1957).
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  • ''Commerce is so far from being beneficial to arts, or to empire, that it is destructive of both, as all their history shows, for the above reason of individual merit being its great hatred. Empires flourish till they become commercial, and then they are scattered abroad to the four winds.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. Public address, c. 1810, in Blake's notebook. Complete Writings, ed. Geoffrey Keynes (1957).
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  • ''Pity would be no more,
    If we did not make somebody poor;
    And mercy no more could be,
    If all were as happy as we;''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. The Human Abstract (l. 1-4). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
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  • ''To me this world is all one continued vision of fancy or imagination, and I feel flattered when I am told so. What is it sets Homer, Virgil and Milton in so high a rank of art? Why is Bible more entertaining and instructive than any other book? Is it not because they are addressed to the imagination, which is spiritual sensation, and but mediately to the understanding or reason?''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. letter, Aug. 23, 1799. Complete Writings, ed. Geoffrey Keynes (1957).
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  • ''The gods of the earth and sea
    Sought through nature to find this tree.
    But their search was all in vain:
    There grows one in the human brain.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, mystic. The Human Abstract (l. 21-24). . . The Complete Poems [William Blake]. Alicia Ostriker, ed. (1977) Penguin Books.
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  • ''Some say that happiness is not good for mortals, & they ought to be answered that sorrow is not fit for immortals & is utterly useless to any one; a blight never does good to a tree, & if a blight kill not a tree but it still bear fruit, let none say that the fruit was in consequence of the blight.''
    William Blake (1757-1827), British poet, painter, engraver. letter, Oct. 7, 1803. Complete Writings, ed. Geoffrey Keynes (1957).
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Best Poem of William Blake

The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,
In the forests 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 sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the ...

Read the full of The Tyger

Earth's Answer

Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.

'Prisoned on watery shore,
Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;

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