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
Prudence is a rich, ugly, old maid courted by incapacity. – William Blake
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
Prudence is a rich, ugly, old maid courted by incapacity. – William Blake
I have no name: I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am, Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee! – William Blake
My mother groaned, my father wept, into the dangerous world I leapt; helpless, naked, piping loud, like a fiend hid in a cloud. – William Blake