While in London two months ago I visited the home of William Blake, a true visionary (some call him “Britain’s Van Gogh”) who, last month, wherever his spirit soars, celebrated his 166th birthday.
For a time Blake lived at 17 South Molten Street, opposite The Widow Applebaum’s (also past-tense), a New York-style delicatessen where I worked my first job, as a busboy.
Blake-isms:
“In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between them, there are doors.”
“I should be sorry if I had any earthly fame, for whatever natural glory a man has is so much detracted from his spiritual glory.”
“When I tell the truth, it is not for the sake of convincing those who do not know it, but for the sake of defending those that do.”
“Great things are done when men and mountains meet.”
“I cannot consider death as anything but a removing from one room to another.”
And…
“I have conversed with the spiritual sun, I saw him on Primrose Hill.”