William Blake

Think in the morning.  Act in the noon.  Eat in the evening.  Sleep in the night.

He who bends to himself a joy Doth the winged life destroy But he who kisses life as it flies Lives in eternity's sunrise

  The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn of the crow.

why wilt thou examine every little fibre of my soul, spreading them out before the sun like stalks of flax to dry? ..... naught shalt thou find in it but Death, Despair & Everlasting brooding Melancholy. thou wilt go mad with horror if thou dost examine thus every moment of my secret hours.

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.

No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings.

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: "Pipe a song about a Lamb." So I piped with merry cheer; "Piper, pipe that song again." So I piped; he wept to hear.

Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am I not like thee Or art not thou A man like Me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.

Little Lamb who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee?

The Moon like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight, Sits and smiles on the night.