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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

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Commerce Is So Far

William Blake

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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.

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He Who Wants, But Doesn't Act, Is A Pest.

Oh! Why Was I Born With A Different Face? Why Was I Not Born Like The Rest Of My Race? When I Look,each One Starts! When I Speak, I Offend; Then Im Silent & Passive & Lose Every Friend. Then My Verse I Dishonour, My Pictures Despise, My Person Degrade & My Temper Chastise; And The Pen Is My Terror, The Pencil My Shame; All My Talents I Bury, And Dead Is My Fame. Im Either Too Low Or Too Highly Prized; When Elate I M Envy'd, When Meek Im Despis'd

Different Faces

Both Read The Bible Day And Night, But Thou Read Black Where I Read White.

Mercy Is The Golden Chain By Which Society Is Bound Together.

Rome & Greece Swept Art Into Their Maw & Destroy'd It; A Warlike State Never Can Produce Art. It Will Rob & Plunder & Accumulate Into One Place, & Translate & Copy & Buy & Sell & Criticize, But Not Make.

If The Doors Of Perception Were Cleansed Everything Would Appear To Man As It Is, Infinite. For Man Has Closed Himself Up, Till He Sees All Things Thru Chinks Of His Cavern.

Can I See Another's Woe, And Not Be In Sorrow Too? Can I See Another's Grief, And Not Seek For Kind Relief?

The Fool Shall Not Enter Into Heaven Let Him Be Ever So Holy.

Angels Are Happier Than Men And Devils, Because They Are Not Always Prying After Good And Evil In One Another, And Eating The Tree Of Knowledge For Satan's Gratification.

On No Other Ground Can I Sow My Seed Without Tearing Up Some Stinking Weed.

When The Doors Of Perception Are Cleansed, Men Will See Things As They Truly Are, Infinite.

Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A Quenchless Rage.

It Is An Easy Thing To Talk Of Patience To The Afflicted.

Opposition Is True Friendship.

True Friendship

More! More! Is The Cry Of A Mistaken Soul.

Works Of Art Can Only Be Produc'd In Perfection Where The Man Is Either In Affluence Or Is Above The Care Of It.

God Keep Me From The Divinity Of Yes And Nothe Yea Nay Creeping Jesus, From Supposing Up And Down To Be The Same Thing As Allexperimentalists Must Suppose.

Prudence Is A Rich, Ugly, Old Maid Courted By Incapacity.

Man Was Made For Joy And Woe, And When This We Rightly Know Through The World We Safely Go. Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul To Bind.

Dip Him In The River Who Loves Water.

And I Made A Rural Pen, And I Stained The Water Clear, And I Wrote My Happy Songs Every Child May Joy To Hear.

The Glory Of Christianity Is To Conquer By Forgiveness.

Christian Inspirational

The Pride Of The Peacock Is The Glory Of God.

There Is No Mistake So Great As The Mistake Of Not Going On.

I Myself Do Nothing. The Holy Spirit Accomplishes All Through Me.

Ah, Sunflower, Weary Of Time, Who Countest The Steps Of The Sun, Seeking After That Sweet Golden Clime Where The Traveller's Journey Is Done; Where The Youth Pined Away With Desire And The Pale Virgin Shrouded In Snow Arise From Their Graves, And Aspire Where My Sunflower Wishes To Go.

Man Has No Body Distinct From His Soul; For That Called Body Is A Portion Of Soul Discerned By The Five Senses, The Chief Inlets Of Soul In This Age.

You Throw The Sand Against The Wind And The Wind Blows It Back Again.

Acts Themselves Alone Are History, And These Are Neither The Exclusive Property Of Hume, Gibbon Nor Voltaire, Echard, Rapin, Plutarch, Nor Herodotus. Tell Me The Acts, O Historian, And Leave Me To Reason Upon Them As I Please; Away With Your Reasoning And Your Rubbish. All That Is Not Action Is Not Worth Reading.

This Life's Dim Windows Of The Soul Distorts The Heavens From Pole To Pole And Leads You To Believe A Lie When You See With, Not Through, The Eye.

Each Man Must Create His Own System Or Else He Is A Slave To Another Mans

Gratitude Is Heaven Itself.

As A Man Is, So He Sees. As The Eye Is Formed, Such Are Its Powers.

The 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 Water'd It In Fears, Night & Morning With My Tears; And I Sunned It With My 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 Veil'd The Pole: In The Morning Glad I See My Foe Outstretch'd Beneath The Tree.

O God, Protect Me From My Friends, That They Have Not Power Over Me. Thou Hast Giv'n Me Power To Protect Myself From Thy Bitterest Enemies.

O Autumn, Laden With Fruit, And Stained With The Blood Of The Grape, Pass Not, But Sit Beneath My Shady Roof; There Thou May'st Rest, And Tune Thy Jolly Voice To My Fresh Pipe; And All The Daughters Of The Year Shall Dance! Sing Now The Lusty Song Of Fruit And Flowers.

To See A World In A Grain Of Sand And A Heaven In A Wildflower.

Eternity Of Life

Demonstration, Similitude & Harmony Are Objects Of Reasoning. Invention, Identity & Melody Are Objects Of Intuition.

Bring Me My Bow Of Burning Gold: Bring Me My Arrows Of Desire: Bring Me My Spear: O Clouds, Unfold! Bring Me My Chariot Of Fire.

Everything To Be Imagined Is An Image Of Truth.

Joy And Woe Are Woven Fine, A Clothing For The Soul Divine. Under Every Grief And Pine Runs A Joy With Silken Twine.

Harmony Of Colouring Is Destructive Of Art? It Is Like The Smile Of A Fool.

I Must Create A System Or Be Enslaved By Another Mans; I Will Not Reason And Compare: My Business Is To Create.

A Truth That's Told With Bad Intent Beats All The Lies You Can Invent.

God And His Priest And King,...make Up A Heaven Of Our Misery.

The Vision Of Christ That Thou Dost See, Is My Vision's Greatest Enemy. Thine Is The Friend Of All Mankind, Mine Speaks In Parables To The Blind. Thine Loves The Same World That Mine Hates, Thy Heaven-doors Are My Hell Gates.

When Sir Joshua Reynolds Died All Nature Was Degraded

Fun I Love, But Too Much Fun Is Of All Things The Most Loathsome. Mirth Is Better Than Fun, And Happiness Is Better Than Mirth.

I Heard An Angel Singing; When The Day Was Springing, Mercy, Pity, Peace; Is The World's Release.

I Must Create A System, Or Be Enslav'd By Another Man's.

The Difference Between A Bad Artist And A Good One Is: The Bad Artist Seems To Copy A Great Deal; The Good One Really Does.

Thought Provoking

Thinking As I Do That The Creator Of This World Is A Very Cruel Being, And Being A Worshipper Of Christ, I Cannot Help Saying: ''the Son, O How Unlike The Father!'' First God Almighty Comes With A Thump On The Head. Then Jesus Christ Comes With A Balm To Heal It.

General Good Is The Plea Of The Scoundrel, Hypocite, Flatterer.

How Sweet I Roamed From Field To Field, And Tasted All The Summer's Pride, Till I The Prince Of Love Beheld, Who In The Sunny Beams Did Glide!

It Is The Greatest Of Crimes To Depress True Art And Science.

Love To Faults Is Always Blind, Always Is To Joy Inclined. Lawless, Winged, And Unconfined, And Breaks All Chains From Every Mind.

Abstinence Sows Sand All Over The Ruddy Limbs And Flaming Hair, But Desire Gratified Plants Fruits Of Life And Beauty There.

The Worship Of God Is, Honouring His Gifts In Other Men Each According To His Genius, And Loving The Greatest Men Best; Those Who Envy Or Calumniate Great Men Hate God, For There Is No Other God.

Eternity Is In Love With The Productions Of Time.

The Errors Of A Wise Man Make Your Rule Rather Than The Perfections Of A Fool.

The Inquiry In England Is Not Whether A Man Has Talents And Genius, But Whether He Is Passive And Polite And A Virtuous Ass And Obedient To Noblemen's Opinions In Art And Science. If He Is, He Is A Good Man. If Not, He Must Be Starved.

I Have No Name: I Am But Two Days Old. What Shall I Call Thee? I Happy Am, Joy Is My Name. Sweet Joy Befall Thee!

He Loves To Sit And Hear Me Sing, Then, Laughing, Sports And Plays With Me; Then Stretches Out My Golden Wing, And Mocks My Loss Of Liberty.

When A Sinister Person Means To Be Your Enemy, They Always Start By Trying To Become Your Friend.

The Stolen And Perverted Writings Of Homer & Ovid, Of Plato & Cicero, Which All Men Ought To Contemn, Are Set Up By Artifice Against The Sublime Of The Bible

Prepare Your Hearts For Death's Cold Hand! Prepare Your Souls For Flight, Your Bodies For The Earth; Prepare Your Arms For Glorious Victory; Prepare Your Eyes To Meet A Holy God! Prepare, Prepare!

How Have You Left The Ancient Love That Bards Of Old Enjoyed In You! The Languid Strings Do Scarcely Move! The Sound Is Forced, The Notes Are Few!

When My Mother Died I Was Very Young, And My Father Sold Me While Yet My Tongue Could Scarcely Cry Weep Weep Weep Weep. So Your Chimneys I Sweep, And In Soot I Sleep.

Nature Has No Outline. Imagination Has.

The Lamb Misused Breeds Public Strife And Yet Forgives The Butcher's Knife.

What Is Grand Is Necessarily Obscure To Weak Men. That Which Can Be Made Explicit To The Idiot Is Not Worth My Care.

Celebrate Your Existence!

How Can The Bird That Is Born For Joy Sit In A Cage And Sing? How Can A Child, When Fears Annoy, But Droop His Tender Wing, And Forget His Youthful Spring?

Joys Impregnate. Sorrows Bring Forth.

She Who Dwells With Me Whom I Have Loved With Such Communion, That No Place On Earth Can Ever Be Solitude To Me.

Exuberance Is Beauty.

He Who Has Few Things To Desire Cannot Have Many To Fear.

The Hours Of Folly Are Measured By The Clock; But Of Wisdom, No Clock Can Measure.

Each Man Is Haunted Until His Humanity Awakens.

All Pictures That's Painted With Sense And With Thought / Are Painted By Madmen As Sure As A Groat; / For The Greater The Fool In The Pencil More Blest, / And When They Are Drunk They Always Paint Best.

The Bat That Flits At Close Of Eve Has Left The Brain That Won't Believe. The Owl That Calls Upon The Night Speaks The Unbeliever's Fright.

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.

Piping Down The Valleys Wild, Piping Songs Of Pleasant Glee, On A Cloud I Saw A Child, And He Laughing Said To Me: "pipe A Song About A Lamb." So I Piped With Merry Cheer; "piper, Pipe That Song Again." So I Piped; He Wept To Hear.

There Is A Smile Of Love, And There Is A Smile Of Deceit, And There Is A Smile Of Smiles In Which These Two Smiles Meet.

The Fox Condemns The Trap, Not Himself.

The Child's Toys And The Old Man's Reasons Are The Fruits Of Two Seasons.

Why A Tender Curb Upon The Youthful Burning Boy? Why A Little Curtain Of Flesh On The Bed Of Our Desire?

The Whole Business Of Man Is The Arts, & All Things Common.

Men Are Admitted Into Heaven Not Because They Have Curbed And Governed Their Passions Or Have No Passions, But Because They Have Cultivated Their Understandings. The Treasures Of Heaven Are Not Negations Of Passion, But Realities Of Intellect, From Which All The Passions Emanate Uncurbed In Their Eternal Glory.

Hindsight Is A Wonderful Thing But Foresight Is Better, Especially When It Comes To Saving Life, Or Some Pain!

He Who Doubts From What He Sees Will Ne'er Believe, Do What You Please.

If The Doors Of Perception Were Cleansed Everything Would Appear To Man As It Is, Infinite.

The Eagle Never Lost So Much Time As When He Submitted To Learn Of The Crow

Come O'er The Eastern Hills, And Let Our Winds Kiss Thy Perfumed Garments; Let Us Taste Thy Morn And Evening Breath; Scatter Thy Pearls Upon Our Love-sick Land That Mourns For Thee.

Does The Eagle Know What Is In The Pit Or Wilt Thou Go Ask The Mole? Can Wisdom Be Put In A Silver Rod, Or Love In A Golden Bowl?

Where Any View Of Money Exists, Art Cannot Be Carried On.

He Who Kisses Joy As It Flies By Will Live In Eternity's Sunrise.

Then The Parson Might Preach, & Drink, & Sing, And We'd Be As Happy As Birds In The Spring; And Modest Dame Lurch, Who Is Always At Church, Would Not Have Bandy Children, Nor Fasting, Nor Birch.

Then My Verse I Dishonor, My Pictures Despise, My Person Degrade And My Temper Chastise; And The Pen Is My Terror, The Pencil My Shame; And My Talents I Bury, And Dead Is My Fame.

We Are Not Meant To Resolve All Contradictions But To Live With Them And Rise Above Them.

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.

The Grave Is Heaven's Golden Gate, And Rich And Poor Around It Wait; O Shepherdess Of England's Fold, Behold This Gate Of Pearl And Gold!

Dear Mother, Dear Mother, The Church Is Cold, But The Ale-house Is Healthy And Pleasant And Warm.

All Futurity Seems Teeming With Endless Destruction Never To Be Repelled; Desperate Remorse Swallows The Present In A Quenchless Rage.

England! Awake! Awake! Awake! Jerusalem Thy Sister Calls! Why Wilt Thou Sleep The Sleep Of Death And Close Her From Thy Ancient Walls?

Rhetoric Completes The Tools Of Learning. Dialectic Zeros In On The Logic Of Things, Of Particular Systems Of Thought Or Subjects. Rhetoric Takes The Next Grand Step And Brings All These Subjects Together Into One Whole.

The Pride Of The Peacock Is The Glory Of God. The Lust Of The Goat Is The Bounty Of God. The Wrath Of The Lion Is The Wisdom Of God. The Nakedness Of Woman Is The Work Of God.

The World Of Imagination Is The World Of Eternity.

You Never Know What Is Enough Unless You Know What Is More Than Enough.

Thought Provoking

My Mother Groaned, My Father Wept, Into The Dangerous World I Leapt.

The Vision Of Christ That Thou Dost See Is My Vision's Greatest Enemy.

Life Delights In Life.

The Tree Which Moves Some To Tears Of Joy Is In The Eyes Of Others Only A Green Thing That Stands In The Way. Some See Nature All Ridicule And Deformity... And Some Scarce See Nature At All. But To The Eyes Of The Man Of Imagination, Nature Is Imagination Itself.

Wisdom Is Sold In A Desolate Marketplace Where None Can Come To Buy.

If You Have Form'd A Circle To Go Into, Go Into It Yourself, And See How You Would Do. They Said This Mystery Never Shall Cease: The Priest Promotes War, And The Soldier Peace.

The Soul Of Sweet Delight, Can Never Be Defiled.

Reason, Or The Ratio Of All We Have Already Known, Is Not The Same That It Shall Be When We Know More.

The Gulfing Whale Was Like A Dot In The Spell. Yet Look Upon It, And 'twould Size And Swell To Its Huge Self, And The Minutest Fish Would Pass The Very Hardest Gazer's Wish, And Show His Little Eye's Anatomy.

Time Is The Mercy Of Eternity; Without Time's Swiftness Which Is The Swiftest Of All Things, All Were Eternal Torment.

Knowledge Is Life With Wings

Mere Enthusiasm Is The All In All... / Passion And Expression Are Beauty Itself.

A Good Local Pub Has Much In Common With A Church, Except That A Pub Is Warmer, And There's More Conversation.

What Is The Price Of Experience? Do Men Buy It For A Song? Or Wisdom For A Dance In The Street? No, It Is Bought With The Price Of All The Man Hath, His House, His Wife, His Children.

The Britons (say Historians) Were Naked, Civilized Men, Learned, Studious, Abstruse In Thought And Contemplation; Naked, Simple, Plain In Their Acts And Manners; Wiser Than After Ages.

The Moon, Like A Flower In Heaven's High Bower, With Silent Delight Sits And Smiles On The Night.

I Asked A Thief To Steal Me A Peach: He Turned Up His Eyes. I Asked A Lithe Lady To Lie Her Down: Holy And Meek, She Cries. As Soon As I Went An Angel Came. He Winked At The Thief And Smiled At The Dame- And Without One Word Spoke Had A Peach From The Tree, And 'twixt Earnest And Joke Enjoyed The Lady.

What Is A Wife And What Is A Harlot? What Is A Church And What Is A Theatre? Are They Two And Not One? Can They Exist Separate? Are Not Religion And Politics The Same Thing? Brotherhood Is Religion. O Demonstrations Of Reason Dividing Families In Cruelty And Pride!

God Is The Poetic Genius In Each Of Us.

I Am More Famed In Heaven For My Works Than I Could Well Conceive. In My Brain Are Studies & Chambers Filled With Books & Pictures Of Old, Which I Wrote And Painted In Ages Of Eternity Before My Mortal Life; And Whose Works Are The Delight & Study Of Archangels. Why, Then, Should I Be Anxious About The Riches Or Fame Of Mortality?

The Busy Bee Has No Time For Sorrow.

Knowledge Of Ideal Beauty Is Not To Be Acquired. It Is Born With Us. Innate Ideas Are In Every Man, Born With Him; Theyare Truly Himself.

I Wander Thro' Each Charter'd Street, Near Where The Charter'd Thames Does Flow, And Mark In Every Face I Meet Marks Of Weakness, Marks Of Woe. In Every Cry Of Every Man, In Every Infant's Cry Of Fear, In Every Voice, In Every Ban, The Mind-forg'd Manacles I Hear. How The Chimney-sweeper's Cry Every Black'ning Church Appalls; And The Hapless Soldier's Sigh Runs In Blood Down Palace Walls. But Most Thro' Midnight Streets I Hear How The Youthful Harlot's Curse Blasts The New Born Infant's Tear, And Blights With Plagues The Marriage Hearse.

Make Your Own Rules Or Be A Slave To Another Man's.

Prisons Are Built With Stones Of Law. Brothels With The Bricks Of Religion.

Some Are Born To Sweet Delight, Some Are Born To Endless Night.

What Has Reason To Do With The Art Of Painting?

The Spirits Of The Air Live On The Smells Of Fruit; And Joy, With Pinions Light, Roves Round The Gardens, Or Sits Singing In The Trees.

The Goddess Fortune Is The Devil's Servant, Ready To Kiss Any One's Ass.

Children Of The Future Age Reading This Indignant Page Know That In A Former Time Love, Sweet Love, Was Thought A Crime

Every Harlot Was A Virgin Once.

When A Man Has Married A Wifehe Finds Out Whetherher Knees & Elbows Are Onlyglued Together.

The Bird A Nest, The Spider A Web, Man Friendship.

Execution Is The Chariot Of Genius.

God Only Acts And Is, In Existing Beings Or Men.

He Who Shall Hurt The Little Wren Shall Never Be Beloved By Men.

Where There Is Money There Is No Art.

He Who Makes His Law A Curse, By His Own Law Shall Surely Die.

Pay Attention To Minute Particulars. Take Care Of The Little Ones. Generalization And Abstraction Are The Plea Of The Hypocrite, Scoundrel, And Knave.

He Whose Face Gives No Light, Shall Never Become A Star.

I Love Hanging And Drawing And Quartering Every Bit As Well As War And Slaughtering.

Down The Winding Cavern We Groped Our Tedious Way, Till A Void Boundless As The Nether Sky Appeared Beneath Us, And We Held By The Roots Of Trees And Hung Over This Immensity; But I Said: If You Please We Will Commit Ourselves To This Void And See Whether Providence Is Here Also.

First Thought Is Best In Art, Second In Other Matters.

Thou Art A Man God Is No More Thy Own Humanity Learn To Adore

If You Trap The Moment Before It's Ripe, The Tears Of Repentence You'll Certainly Wipe; But If Once You Let The Ripe Moment Go You Can Never Wipe Off The Tears Of Woe.

Men Are Admitted Into Heaven Not Because They Have Curbed Or Governed Their Passions, But Because They Have Cultivate Their Understandings.

To The Eyes Of The Man Of Imagination, Nature Is Imagination Itself.

Time Is The Mercy Of Eternity

I Will Not Cease From Mental Fight Nor Shall My Sword Sleep In My Hand.

To Be An Error And To Be Cast Out Is A Part Of God's Design.

To My Eye Rubens' Colouring Is Most Contemptible. His Shadows Are A Filthy Brown Somewhat The Colour Of Excrement.

Sooner Strangle An Infant In Its Cradle Than Nurse Unacted Desires.

Death Is Terrible, Tho' Borne On Angels' Wings!

I Have Mental Joys And Mental Health, Mental Friends And Mental Wealth, I've A Wife That I Love And That Loves Me; I've All But Riches Bodily.

As A Man Is, So He Sees.

Thought Provoking

For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing. If Thought Is Life And Strength And Breath And The Want Of Thought Is Death Then Am I A Happy Fly If I Live Or If I Die

In Every Cry Of Every Man, In Every Infant's Cry Of Fear, In Every Voice, In Every Ban, The Mind-forg'd Manacles I Hear.

To Cast Aside From Poetry, All That Is Not Inspiration

When The Stars Threw Down Their Spears, And Watered Heaven With Their Tears, Did He Smile His Work To See? Did He Who Made The Lamb Make Thee?

But To Go To School In A Summer Morn, O! It Drives All Joy Away; Under A Cruel Eye Outworn, The Little Ones Spend The Day In Sighing And Dismay.

A Skylark Wounded In The Wing, / A Cherubim Does Cease To Sing.

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.

Poetry Fettered Fetters The Human Race.

When The Sun Rises, Do You Not See A Round Disc Of Fire Somewhat Like A Guinea? O No, No, I See An Innumerable Company Of The Heavenly Host Crying Holy, Holy, Holy Is The Lord God Almighty.

He Who Desires, But Acts Not, Breeds Pestilence.

Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand.

Eternity Of Life

The Atoms Of Democritus And Newton's Particles Of Light Are Sands Upon The Red Sea Shore, Where Israel's Tents Do Shine So Bright.

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.

Love's Secret Never Seek To Tell Thy Love, Love That Never Told Can Be; For The Gentle Wind Doth 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! Soon After She Was Gone From Me, A Traveller Came By, Silently, Invisibly: He Took Her With A Sigh.

Where Others See But The Dawn Coming Over The Hill, I See The Soul Of God Shouting For Joy.

Every Night And Every Morn Some To Misery Are Born. Every Morn And Every Night Some Are Born To Sweet Delight, Some Are Born To Endless Night.

Christ's Crucifix Shall Be Made An Excuse For Executing Criminals.

Love Seeketh Only Self To Please, To Bind Another To Its Delight, Joys In Another's Loss Of Ease, And Builds A Hell In Heaven's Despite.

The Countless Gold Of A Merry Heart, The Rubies And Pearls Of A Loving Eye, The Indolent Never Can Bring To The Mart, Nor The Secret Hoard Up In His Treasury.

If The Sun And Moon Should Ever Doubt, They'd Immediately Go Out.

Since The French Revolution Englishmen Are All Intermeasurable One By Another, Certainly A Happy State Of Agreement To Which I Forone Do Not Agree.

I See The Past, Present & Future Existing All At Once Before Me.

Past Present Future

Lives In Eternity's Sun Rise.

The Stars Are Threshed, And The Souls Are Threshed From Their Husks.

Every Man Who Is Not An Artist Is A Traitor To His Own Nature.

If You Would Help Another Man, You Must Do So In Minute Particulars.

To Chloe's Breast Young Cupid Slily Stole, But He Crept In At Myra's Pocket-hole.

The Generations Of Men Run On In The Tide Of Time, But Leave Their Destined Lineaments Permanent For Ever And Ever.

You've Always Had The Power Right There In Your Shoes, You Just Had To Learn It For Yourself.

Can I See A Falling Tear, And Not Feel My Sorrow's Share?

Energy Is Eternal Delight.

Every Thing Possible To Be Believ'd Is An Image Of Truth.

The Strongest Poison Ever Known Came From Caesar's Laurel Crown.

Work Up Imagination To The State Of Vision.

The World Of Imagination Is The World Of Eternity. It Is The Divine Bosom Into Which We Shall All Go After The Death Of The Vegetated [i.e. Mortal] Body. This World Of Imagination Is Infinite And Eternal, Whereas The World Of Generation Is Finite And Temporal. There Exist In That Eternal World The Eternal Realities Of Everything Which We See Reflected In This Vegetable Glass Of Nature.

Jesus & His Apostles & Disciples Were All Artists

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