Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

I must create a system, or be enslav'd by another man's.

And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love')

He who kisses joy as it flies by will live in eternity's sunrise.

As the caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.

Every man who is not an artist is a traitor to his own nature.

For everything exists and not one sigh nor smile nor tear, one hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away.