William Blake
I was angry with my friend I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
I was angry with my friend I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
What is now proved was once only imagined.
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thru' narrow…
It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.