William Blake

I see the Four-fold Man. The Humanity in deadly sleep, And its fallen Emanation. The Spectre & its cruel Shadow. I see the Past, Present & Future, existing all at once Before me; O Divine Spirit sustain me on thy wings!

For every thing exists & not one sigh nor smile nor tear, One hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.

Ever Weeping Paddington...

I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Man's; I will not Reason and Compare: my business is to Create.

Pity must join together those whom wrath has torn in sunder

They have divided themselves by Wrath. they must be united by Pity

O Saviour pour upon me thy Spirit of meekness & love: Annihilate the Selfhood in me, be thou all my life! Guide thou my hand which trembles exceedingly upon the rock of ages

Trembling I sit day and night, my friends are astonish'd at me. Yet they forgive my wanderings, 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 …

I am not a God afar off, I am a brother and friend; Within your bosoms I reside, and you reside in me: Lo! we are One; forgiving all Evil; Not seeking recompense!

Poetry Fetter'd. Fetters the Human Race. Nations are Destroy'd, or Flourish, in proportion as Their Poetry, Painting, and Music are Destroy'd or Flourish!

Every Thing has its Vermin O Spectre of the Sleeping Dead!

Half Friendship is the bitterest Enmity...

Grown old in love from seven till seven times seven, I oft have wished for Hell for ease from Heaven.

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."

If you have formed a circle to go into, Go into it yourself and see how you would do.

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; This is not done by jostling in the street.

Time is the mercy of Eternity; without Time's swiftness Which is the swiftest of all things, all were eternal torment.

Rouze up, O Young Men of the New Age! set your foreheads against the ignorant Hirelings! For we have Hirelings in the Camp, the Court & the University, who would, if they could, for ever depress Mental & prolong Corporeal War.

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

For a tear is an intellectual thing, And a sigh is the sword of an Angel King, And the bitter groan of the martyr's woe Is an arrow from the Almighty's bow.

This cabinet is formed of gold And pearl and crystal shining bright, And within it opens into a world And a little lovely moony night.

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.

Terror in the house does roar, But Pity stands before the door.

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.