I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans I will not reason and compare: my business is to create. – William Blake
Embraces are cominglings from the head even to the feet, and not a pompous high priest entering by a secret place. – William Blake
Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; and my talents I bury, and dead is my fame. – William Blake
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is: infinite.
For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro narrow chinks of his cavern. – William Blake