William Blake

Like a fiend in a cloud, With howling woe After night I do crowd And with night will go; I turn my back to the east, From whence comforts have increased; For light cloth seize my brain With frantic pain.

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

On no other ground Can I sow my seed Without tearing up Some stinking weed.

Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to endless night.

The gulfing whale was like a dot in the spell. Yet look upon it, and 'twould size and swell To its huge self, and the minutest fish Would pass the very hardest gazer's wish, And show his little eye's anatomy.

I'm sure this Jesus will not do Either for Englishman or Jew.

One thought fills immensity.

God forbid that Truth should be confined to Mathematical Demonstration!

A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy and Woe; And when this we rightly know, Thro' the World we safely go, Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine.

What is now proved was once only imagin'd.