William Blake
William Blake
William Blakewas an English poet, painter, and printmaker. Largely unrecognised during his lifetime, Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age. His prophetic works have been said to form "what is in proportion to its merits the least read body of poetry in the English language". His visual artistry led one contemporary art critic to proclaim him "far and away the greatest artist Britain has ever produced". In...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPhilosopher
Date of Birth28 November 1757
There certainly are moments in history when poets and painters connect so closely as to be one and the same person,
I see every thing I paint in this world, but everybody does not see alike. To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes.
He who pretends to be either painter or engraver without being a master of drawing is an imposter.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing but foresight is better, especially when it comes to saving life, or some pain!
What has reason to do with the art of painting?
Painters are noted for being dissipated and wild.
All pictures that's painted with sense and with thought / Are painted by madmen as sure as a groat; / For the greater the fool in the pencil more blest, / And when they are drunk they always paint best.
What has reasoning to do with painting?
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.
Poetry fettered, fetters the human race. Nations are destroyed or flourish in proportion as their poetry, painting, and music are destroyed or flourish.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.
Energy is an eternal delight, and he who desires, but acts not, breeds pestilence.
When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it.
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love / All pray in their distress.