I went to the Garden of Love
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of his Chapel were shut
And Thou Shalt Not writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones were flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys and desires.
William Blake, Songs of Experience
William Blake is so unique ! I don’t think there will ever be anyone else like him.
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He had the courage not to hide behind the screen of sameness. There will never be anyone like you, either. We’re all unique.
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True.
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