Цитаты из книги автора William Blake Songs of Innocence, and Songs of Experience

The death of Jesus set me free:
Then what have I to do with thee?

Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.

The gods of the earth and sea
Sought through nature to find this tree,
But their search was all in vain:
There grows one in the human Brain.

In every cry of every man,
In every infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:
How the chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

Arm in arm, seven days
They traced the desert ways.

And their sun does never shine,
And their fields are bleak and bare,
And their ways are filled with thorns,
It is eternal winter there.
For where’er the sun does shine,
And where’er the rain does fall,
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appal.

Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine:
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew.
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.

Sleep, sleep, happy child!
All creation slept and smiled.

Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of ‘Ha ha he!’

And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me