WIST

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.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l. 1 (1803)
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He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l. 29 (1803)
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A dog starved at his master’s gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l. 9 (1803)
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The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s laurel crown.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l. 97 (1803)
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A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all Heaven in a rage.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l.5 (1803)
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A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l.53 (1803)
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The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s laurel crown.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
“Auguries of Innocence,” l.97 (1803)
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Nothing can be more contemptible than to suppose Public RECORDS to be True.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Annotations to “An Apology for the Bible” by R. Watson (1797)
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Degrade first the arts if you’d mankind degrade,
Hire idiots to paint with cold light and hot shade.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Annotations to Sir Joshua Reynolds’s “Discourses”, title page (c. 1798–1809)

That the Jews assumed a right Exclusively to the benefits of God will be a lasting witness against them. And the same will it be of Christians.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Annotations to “An Apology for the Bible” by R. Watson (1797)
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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.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Blake’s Exhibition and Catalogue, Vol. 5 “The Ancient Britons” (1809)

It is easier to forgive an Enemy than to forgive a Friend!

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion (c. 1803–20)
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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 (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion, “To the Public,” Plate 1 (c. 1803–20)

He who would do good to another must do it in minute particulars;
General good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite, and flatterer:
For art and science cannot exist but in minutely organized Particulars.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion, ch. 3, plate 55, l. 60 (c. 1803–20)
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And did those feet in ancient time,
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Milton: A Poem, preface, st. 1-2 (1804-08)

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!

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Milton: A Poem, preface, st. 3 (1804-08)

I will not cease from Mental Fight,
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant Land.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Milton: A Poem, preface, st. 4 (1804-08)

The sword sung on the barren heath,
The sickle in the fruitful field;
The sword he sung a song of death,
But could not make the sickle yield.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Notebooks “The Sword Sung” (c. 1791-92)

He’s a Blockhead who wants a proof of what he Can’t Perceive
And he’s a Fool who tries to make such a Blockhead believe.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Notebooks (1793)

When nations grow old, the Arts grow cold,
And Commerce settles on every tree.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
On Art And Artists, “On the Foundation of the Royal Academy” (1800)

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 (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Songs of Experience, “A Poison Tree”, st. 1 (1794)

Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell’s despair.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Songs of Experience, “The Clod and the Pebble”, st. 1 (1794)

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
in the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Songs of Experience, “The Tyger”, st. 1 (1794)

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Songs of Experience, “The Tyger”, st. 5 (1794)

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 a woman is the work of God.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790-93)

A man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “A Memorable Fancy” (1790)
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What is now proved was once only imagined.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “Proverbs of Hell” (1790–93)
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Prisons are built with stones of law, brothels with bricks of religion.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “Proverbs of Hell”, l. 21 (1790–93)
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You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “Proverbs of Hell”, l. 46 (1790-93)
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The ancient poets animated all objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive. And particularly they studied the genius of each city & country, placing it under its mental deity; Till a system was formed, which some took advantage of, & enslav’d the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects: thus began priesthood; Choosing forms of worship from poetic tales. And at length they pronounc’d that the Gods had order’d such things. Thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “Proverbs of Hell”, l. 71 (1790–93)
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Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, “The Argument” (1790–93)
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I have written this Poem from immediate Dictation, twelve or sometimes twenty or thirty lines at a time, without Premeditation and even against my Will; the Time it has taken in writing was thus render’d Non Existent, and an immense Poem Exists which seems to be the Labor of a long life, all produc’d without Labor or Study.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Letter to his patron Thomas Butts (25 Apr 1803)

What is Grand is necessarily obscure to Weak men. That which can be made Explicit to the idiot is not worth my care.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Letter to Rev. Dr. Trusler (23 Aug 1799)

Fun I love, but too much Fun is of all things the most loathsome. Mirth is better than Fun & Happiness is better than Mirth.

William Blake (1757-1827) English poet, mystic, artist
Letter to Rev. Dr. Trusler (23 Aug 1799)