William Blake

If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

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

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit?
Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?
Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod?
Or Love in a golden bowl?

Degrade first the arts if you'd mankind degrade,
Hire idiots to paint with cold light and hot shade.

A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.

Great things are done when men and mountains meet;
This is not done by jostling in the street.