William Blake

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!

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?

If a thing loves, it is infinite.

There can be no Good Will. Will is always Evil; it is persecution to others or selfishness.

The true method of knowledge is experiment.

Reason, or the ratio of all we have already known, is not the same that it shall be when we know more.