The rational sanity of Blake directly fed into a seemly modesty, and an ability realistically to assess his own merits and success as a writer. 'I am more famed in heaven for my works than I could well
conceive. In my brain are studies and
chambers filled with books and pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in
ages of eternity before my mortal life; and those works are the delight and
study of archangels. Why then should I
be anxious about the riches and fame of mortality? [William Blake to John Flaxman; 21 Sept 1800; Life (1863), ii:21]
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When I think about Blake, I'm always rather reminded of Austin Osman Spare. Like the reminder of Dickens I always get when I read Stephen King.
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