In the early morning hours, Hannah read at the table by the dim light of dawn. She leaned in close to the pages, chin resting on her folded arms, eyes racing over the words, like chasing butterflies over the hills, to catch as many as she could before going to work. She wondered at how such tales of magic could be contained by mere paper and ink for her to read again and again.
I got more than a thing for you, tattoo wit a ink for you right over my heart girl, I'll do the unthinkable.
Every drop of ink in my pen ran cold.
If you're not a full-time missionary with a missionary badge pinned on your coat, now is the time to paint one on your heart-painted, as Paul said, 'not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God. '
A private meeting with Hoover is like sitting in a both of ink.
He who has knowledge of the just and the good and beautiful. . . will not, when in earnest, write them in ink.
What a strange, demented feeling it gives me when I realize I have spent whole days before this ink stone, with nothing better to do, jotting down at random whatever nonsensical thoughts have entered my head.
The Proustian aquarium: grotesque and gorgeous fish drifting with languid fins through a subaqueous medium of pale violet polluted ink.
Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago.
Brush and ink are only servants of thoughts and emotion. They should follow your emotion and change with the emotion.
The diversity of web browsers tomorrow will match the diversity of ink browsers (aka paper) today
At some unnoticed moment, I began to understand that a life is written in indelible ink.
It was said of old Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, that she never puts dots over her I s, to save ink.
I called it a baptism in flaming ink that forced me to shed my shyness about recognizing myself as a poet and to accept the fact that life had never given me any choice in the matter. And then I had to discover exactly what that meant.
. . . as for helping me in the outside world, the Convent taught me only that if you spit on a pencil eraser, it will erase ink.
The word 'however' is like an imp coiled beneath your chair. It induces ink to form words you have not yet seen, and lines to march across the page and overshoot the margin. There are no endings. If you think so you are deceived as to their nature. They are all beginnings. Here is one.
In writing biography, fact and fiction shouldn't be mixed. And if they are, the fictional points should be printed in red ink, the facts printed in black ink.
I also felt guilty about the three pens I'd stolen, but only for a second. And since there was no convenient way to give them back, I stole a bottle of ink before I left.
Never argue with people who buy ink by the gallon.
Lies written in ink cannot disguise facts written in blood.