William Blake Quotations

-I must Create a System or be enslav’d by another Man’s.

-If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.

-The most sublime act is to set another before you.

-To see a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wildflower… hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour…

-Tell me with whom you go and I’ll tell you what you do.

-Everything that lives, lives not alone nor for itself.

-Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Thro’ the world we safely go,
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.

-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.

-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.

-No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.

-A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

-Those who restrain their desires, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.

-It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

-Each man is haunted until his humanity awakens.

-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.

-When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do.

-What is grand is necessarily obscure to weak men. That which can be made explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.

-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.

-When thou seest an eagle, thou seest a portion of genius; lift up thy head!

-I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered 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-forged manacles I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born infant’s tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.

William Blake