In Seed Time Learn, In

Colouring Does Not Depend On Where The Colours Are Put, But On Where The Lights And Darks Are Put, And All Depends On Form And Outline, On Where That Is Put.

He Whose Face Gives No Light, Shall Never Become A Star.

I Wander Thro' Each Charter'd Street, Near Where The Charter'd Thames Does Flow, And Mark In Every Face I Meet Marks Of Weakness, Marks Of Woe. In Every Cry Of Every Man, In Every Infant's Cry Of Fear, In Every Voice, In Every Ban, The Mind-forg'd Manacles I Hear. How The Chimney-sweeper's Cry Every Black'ning Church Appalls; And The Hapless Soldier's Sigh Runs In Blood Down Palace Walls. But Most Thro' Midnight Streets I Hear How The Youthful Harlot's Curse Blasts The New Born Infant's Tear, And Blights With Plagues The Marriage Hearse.

A Divine Image Cruelty Has A Human Heart, And Jealousy A Human Face; Terror The Human Form Divine, And Secresy The Human Dress. The Human Dress Is Forged Iron, The Human Form A Fiery Forge, The Human Face A Furnace Sealed, The Human Heart Its Hungry Gorge.

Mere Enthusiasm Is The All In All... / Passion And Expression Are Beauty Itself.