He who pretends to be either painter or engraver without being a master of drawing is an imposter. William Blake More Quotes by William Blake More Quotes From William Blake Where mercy, love, and pity dwell, there God is dwelling too. William Blake dwellinghouselove thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast. William Blake breastsdeitiesmen Shame is pride's cloak. William Blake cloaksshamepride What seems to be, is, to those to whom it seems to be, and is productive of the most dreadful consequences to those to whom it seems to be, even of torments, despair, eternal death. William Blake tormentdespairdeath O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down William Blake eyespringmorning Can I see another's woe, and not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, and not seek for kind relief? William Blake griefsympathypeace 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 the 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 immediately to the understanding or reason? William Blake spiritualbibleart I must create a system, or be enslav'd by another man's. William Blake spacefearmen God appears, and God is Light, to those poor souls who dwell in Night; but does a Human Form display to those who dwell in realms of Day. William Blake lightsoulnight Since all the riches of this world William Blake devilsimplicitykings Opposition is true friendship. William Blake true-friendshipartistfriendship 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 sorrowtreehappiness Every mortal loss is an immortal gain. William Blake immortalgainsloss Heaven is in a grain of sand. William Blake grains-of-sandsandheaven 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 proportionpaintingrace The Sick Rose O Rose, thou art sick. The invisible worm That flies in the night In the howling storm Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. William Blake darklifeart The lamb misused breeds public strife And yet forgives the butcher's knife. William Blake kniveslambsforgiving 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. William Blake wrathangerfriendship For the Eye altering alters all; William Blake ballseyeimagination Mere enthusiasm is the all in all... / Passion and expression are beauty itself. William Blake passionexpressionenthusiasm
