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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.

-William Blake

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Rhetoric Completes The Tools

William Blake

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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.

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More From William Blake

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

Every Tear From Every Eyebecomes A Babe In Eternity.

Father, O Father! What Do We Here In This Land Of Unbelief And Fear?

As I Was Walking Among The Fires Of Hell, Delighted With The Enjoyments Of Genius; Which To Angels Look Like Torment And Insanity, I Collected Some Of Their Proverbs.

The Cut Worm Forgives The Plow.

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

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

Gratitude, In Itself, Is Heaven.

The Person Who Does Not Believe In Miracles Surely Makes It Certain That He Or She Will Never Take Part In One.

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; So I Turn'd To The Garden Of Love, That So Many Sweet Flowers Bore. 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 & Desires.

Energy Is An Eternal Delight.

Little Fly, Thy Summer's Play My Thoughtless Hand Has Brushed Away. Am Not I A Fly Like Thee? Or Art Not Thou A Man Like Me? For I Dance And Drink And Sing, Till Some Blind Hand Shall Brush My Wing!

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

Past Present Future

The Vision Of Christ That Thou Dost See Is My Vision's Greatest Enemy . Both Read The Bible Day And Night, But Thou Read'st Black Where I Read White. His Seventy Disciples Sent Against Religion And Government .

The Human Mind Cannot Go Beyond The Gift Of God, The Holy Ghost. To Suppose That Art Can Go Beyond The Finest Specimens Of Art That Are Now In The World Is Not Knowing What Art Is; It Is Being Blind To The Gifts Of The Spirit.

Gifts Of The Spirit

Does A Firm Persuasion That A Thing Is So, Make It So?

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

The Tigers Of Wrath Are Wiser Than The Horses Of Instruction.

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.

I Rest Not From My Great Task! | To Open The Eternal Worlds, | To Open The Immortal Eyes Of Man | Inwards Into The Worlds Of Thought; | Into Eternity, Ever Expanding | In The Bosom Of God, | The Human Imagination

I Am Going To That Country Which I Have All My Life Wished To See.

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

Thought Provoking

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.

Let The Men Do Their Duty & The Women Will Be Such Wonders; The Female Life Lives From The Light Of The Male: See A Man's Female Dependants, You Know The Man.

But Most Thro' Midnight Streets I Hear How The Youthful Harlots Curse Blasts The New-born Infants Tear And Blights With Plagues The Marriage Hearse

For Where'er The Sun Does Shine, And Where'er The Rain Does Fall, Babe Can Never Hunger There, Nor Poverty The Mind Appall.

And We Are Put On Earth A Little Space, That We May Learn To Bear The Beams Of Love.

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

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

The Hand Of Vengeance Found The Bed To Which The Purple Tyrant Fled The Iron Hand Crush'd The Tyrant's Head And Became Tyrant In His Stead.

Do What You Will This Life's A Fiction, And Is Made Up Of Contradiction.

Pride Is A Personal Commitment. It Is An Attitude Which Separates Excellence From Mediocrity.

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.

He Who Replies To Words Of Doubt Doth Put The Light Of Knowledge Out.

Man Has Closed Himself Up, Till He Sees All Things Thro' Narrow Chinks Of His Cavern.

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.

A Robin Redbreast In A Cage Puts All Heaven In A Rage.

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!

I Was In A Printing-house In Hell, And Saw The Method In Which Knowledge Is Transmitted From Generation To Generation.

Gratitude Is Heaven Itself; There Could Be No Heaven Without Gratitude.

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

Without Contraries Is No Progression. Attraction And Repulsion, Reason And Energy, Love And Hate, Are Necessary To Human Existence.

Time Is The Mercy Of Eternity

None But Blockheads Copy Each Other.

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

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.

Excessive Sorrow Laughs. Excessive Joy Weeps.

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

Naught Can Deform The Human Race Like To The Armor's Iron Brace.

Knowledge Is Life With Wings

There Is A Place Where Contrarieties Are Equally True.

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.

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

Imagination Is The Real And Eternal World Of Which This Vegetable Universe Is But A Faint Shadow.

Dip Him In The River Who Loves Water.

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

Where Cheating Is, There's Mischief There.

Active Evil Is Better Than Passive Good.

Thought Provoking

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!

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

The Old And New Testaments Are The Great Code Of Art.

Why Stand We Here Trembling Around, Calling On God For Help, And Not Ourselves, In Whom God Dwells?

I Cry, Love! Love! Love! Happy Happy Love! Free As The Mountain Wind!

Life Delights In Life.

To Some People A Tree Is Something So Incredibly Beautiful That It Brings Tears To The Eyes. To Others It Is Just A Green Thing That Stands In The Way.

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

The Foundation Of Empire Is Art And Science. Remove Them Or Degrade Them, And The Empire Is No More. Empire Follows Art And Not Vice Versa As Englishmen Suppose.

If Christianity Was Morality, Socrates Would Be The Saviour.

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

I Am Under The Direction Of Messengers From Heaven Daily And Nightly.

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

When Thou Seest An Eagle, Thou Seest A Portion Of Genius; Lift Up Thy Head!

But When He Has Done This, Let Him Not Say That He Knows Better Than His Master, For He Only Holds A Candle In Sunshine.

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.

Without Contraries There Is No Progression.

Without Unceasing Practice Nothing Can Be Done. Practice Is Art. If You Leave Off You Are Lost.

Embraces Are Comminglings From The Head Even To The Feet, And Not A Pompous High Priest Entering By A Secret Place.

I Am Really Sorry To See My Countrymen Trouble Themselves About Politics. If Men Were Wise, The Most Arbitrary Princes Could Not Hurt Them. If They Are Not Wise, The Freest Government Is Compelled To Be A Tyranny. Princes Appear To Me To Be Fools. Houses Of Commons And Houses Of Lords Appear To Me To Be Fools; They Seem To Me To Be Something Else Besides Human Life.

Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau! Mock On, Mock On: 'tis All In Vain! You Throw The Sand Against The Wind, And The Wind Blows It Back Again. And Every Sand Becomes A Gem Reflected In The Beams Divine; Blown Back They Blind The Mocking Eye, But Still In Israel's Paths They Shine. 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.

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.

There Can Be No Good Will. Will Is Always Evil; It Is Persecution To Others Or Selfishness.

In Your Own Bosom You Bear Your Heaven And Earth, And All You Behold, Though It Appears Without, It Is Within, In Your Imagination, Of Which This World Of Mortality Is But A Shadow.

I Turn My Eyes To The Schools & Universities Of Europe And There Behold The Loom Of Locke Whose Woof Rages Dire, Washed By The Water-wheels Of Newton. Black The Cloth In Heavy Wreaths Folds Over Every Nation; Cruel Works Of Many Wheels I View, Wheel Without Wheel, With Cogs Tyrannic Moving By Compulsion Each Other: Not As Those In Eden, Which Wheel Within Wheel In Freedom Revolve, In Harmony & Peace.

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?

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!

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.

The Fields From Islington To Marybone, To Primrose Hill And Saint John's Wood, Were Builded Over With Pillars Of Gold; And There Jerusalem's Pillars Stood.

May God Us Keep From Single Vision And Newton's Sleep.

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

Silent As Despairing Love, And Strong As Jealousy.

If Others Had Not Been Foolish, We Should Be So.

Struggling In My Father's Hands, Striving Against My Swaddling Bands, Bound And Weary, I Thought Best To Sulk Upon My Mother's Breast.

Can I See Another's Woe, And Not Be In Sorrow Too? Can I See Another's Grief, And Not Seek For Kind Relief? Can I See A Falling Tear, And Not Feel My Sorrow's Share? Can A Father See His Child Weep, Nor Be With Sorrow Filled? Can A Mother Sit And Hear An Infant Groan, An Infant Fear? No, No! Never Can It Be! Never, Never Can It Be!

Think Not Thou Canst Sigh A Sigh And Thy Maker Is Not By; Think Not Thou Canst Weep A Tear And Thy Maker Is Not Near.

Such, Such Were The Joys When We All, Girls And Boys, In Our Youth Time Were Seen On The Echoing Green.

All Wholesome Food Is Caught Without A Net Or Trap.

O Thou Who Passest Through Our Valleys In Thy Strength, Curb Thy Fierce Steeds, Allay The Heat That Flames From Their Large Nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft Pitchest Here Thy Golden Tent, And Oft Beneath Our Oaks Hast Slept, While We Beheld With Joy Thy Ruddy Limbs And Flourishing Hair.

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

As A Man Is, So He Sees.

Thought Provoking

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

Shame Is Pride's Cloak.

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

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

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

Invention Depends Altogether Upon Execution Or Organization; As That Is Right Or Wrong So Is The Invention Perfect Or Imperfect.

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

Mans Desires Are Limited By His Perceptions; None Can Desire What He Has Not Perceived.

Thy Friendship Oft Has Made My Heart To Ache: Do Be My Enemy For Friendship's Sake.

Everything To Be Imagined Is An Image Of Truth.

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

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

Christianity Is Art And Not Money. Money Is Its Curse.

Never Seek To Tell Thy Love; Love That Never Told Can Be. For The Gentle Wind Does Move Silently.. Invisibly.

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

Those Who Restrain Desire, Do So Because Theirs Is Weak Enough To Be Restrained.

Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand.

Eternity Of Life

Auguries Of Innocence "the Emmet's Inch And Eagle's Mile Make Lame Philosophy To Smile. He Who Doubts From What He Sees Will Ne'er Believe, Do What You Please.

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

If You Cannot Imagine With The Mind's Eye Much More Than You Can See With The Mortal Eye, You Have A Very Poor Imagination Indeed.

In The Universe, There Are Things That Are Known, And Things That Are Unknown, And In Between, There Are Doors.

When Sir Joshua Reynolds Died All Nature Was Degraded

What Has Reason To Do With The Art Of Painting?

Art Degraded, Imagination Denied.

'come Hither, My Boy, Tell Me What Thou Seest There?' 'a Fool Tangled In A Religious Snare.'

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

Jesus & His Apostles & Disciples Were All Artists

Thou Fair-hair'd Angel Of The Evening, Now, Whilst The Sun Rests On The Mountains, Light Thy Bright Torch Of Love; Thy Radiant Crown Put On, And Smile Upon Our Evening Bed!

Then Cherish Pity, Lest You Drive An Angel From Your Door.

Innocence And Experience

Each Man Is Haunted Until His Humanity Awakens.

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.

If The Lion Was Advised By The Fox, He Would Be Cunning.

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

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.

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.

How Do You Know But Ev’ry Bird That Cuts The Airy Way, Is An Immense World Of Delight, Clos’d By Your Senses Five?

Mercy, Pity, And Peace, Are The World's Release.

The Imagination Is Not A State: It Is The Human Existence Itself.

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.

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.

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

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

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?

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

Energy Is Eternal Delight.

Ages Are All Equal. / But Genius Is Always Above The Age.

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

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.

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

God Forbid That Truth Should Be Confined To Mathematical Demonstration!

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.

Nothing Is Real Beyond Imaginative Patterns Men Make Of Reality.

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

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

The Angel That Presided O'er My Birth Said, 'little Creature, Formed Of Joy And Mirth, Go Love Without The Help Of Any Thing On Earth'.

Energy Is The Only Life, And Is From The Body; And Reason Is The Bound Or Outward Circumference Of Energy. Energy Is Eternal Delight.

God Is The Poetic Genius In Each Of Us.

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

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

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.

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

O Earth, O Earth, Return! Arise From Out The Dewy Grass; Night Is Worn; And The Morn Rises From The Slumbrous Mass.

Lo! Now The Direful Monster, Whose Skin Clings To His Strong Bones, Strides O'er The Groaning Rocks: He Withers All In Silence, And His Hand Unclothes The Earth, And Freezes Up Frail Life.

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.

A Tyrant Is The Worst Disease, And The Cause Of All Others.

Without Minute Neatness Of Execution, The Sublime Cannot Exist! Grandeur Of Ideas Is Founded On Precision Of Ideas.

The Soul Of Sweet Delight, Can Never Be Defiled.

If You, Who Are Organised By Divine Providence For Spiritual Communion, Refuse, And Bury Your Talent In The Earth, Even Though You Should Want Natural Bread, Sorrow And Desperation Pursue You Through Life, And After Death Shame And Confusion Of Face To Eternity.

He Who Sees The Infinite In All Things Sees God.

He Who Would Do Good To Another Must Do It In Minute Particulars.

The Weak In Courage Is Strong In Cunning.

And I Watered It In Fears, Night And Morning With My Tears; And I Sunned It With Smiles, And With Soft Deceitful Wiles.

The Eye Altering, Alters All.

My Silks And Fine Array, My Smiles And Languished Air, By Love Are Driv'n Away And Mournful Lean Despair Brings Me Yew To Deck My Grave: Such End True Lovers Have.

Innate Ideas Are In Every Man, Born With Him; They Are Truly Himself. The Man Who Says That We Have No Innate Ideas Must Be A Fool And Knave, Having No Conscience Or Innate Science.

The Man Who Never In His Mind & Thoughts Travel'd To Heaven Is No Artist.

My Brother Starv'd Between Two Walls,his Children's Cry My Soul Appalls

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

The Best Wine Is The Oldest, The Best Water The Newest.

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

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?

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

Painters Are Noted For Being Dissipated And Wild.

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?

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.

A Musician, An Artist, An Architect: The Man Or Woman Who Is Not One Of These Is Not A Christian.

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.

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!

Opposition Is True Friendship.

True Friendship

A Fool Sees Not The Same Tree That A Wise Man Sees.

O Why Was I Born With A Different Face? Why Was I Not Born Like The Rest Of My Race?

Different Faces

I Thought Love Lived In The Hot Sunshine, But O, He Lives In The Moony Light! I Thought To Find Love In The Heat Of Day, But Sweet Love Is The Comforter Of Night.

Inspirational Love

To See A World In A Grain Of Sand And A Heaven In A Wild Flower, Hold Infinity In The Palm Of Your Hand, And Eternity In An Hour.

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.

Lives In Eternity's Sun Rise.

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.

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

It Is Not Because Angels Are Holier Than Men Or Devils That Makes Them Angels, But Because They Do Not Expect Holiness From One Another, But From God Only.

I'm Sure This Jesus Will Not Do Either For Englishman Or Jew.

We Are Led To Believe A Lie When We See Not Through The Eye.

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