Stars ink your fingers with a lexicon of flame blazing rare knowledge.
If all the earth were paper white / And all the sea were ink / 'Twere not enough for me to write / As my poor heart doth think.
Many a text [of Scripture] is written in a secret ink which must be held to the fire of adversity to make it visible.
Sometimes my feelings are so hot that I have to take the pen and put them out on paper to keep them from setting me afire inside; then all that ink and labor are wasted because I can't print the results
Ink cannot tell the glow that lights me at this moment in turning to the mountains. I feel strong [enough] to leap Yosemite walls at a bound.
We have all the freedoms we want. But what we are missing is red ink: the language to articulate our non-freedom. The way we are taught to speak about freedom- war on terror and so on-falsifies freedom.
Advertising is the ability to sense, interpret... to put the very heart throbs of a business into type, paper and ink.
Printer's ink, when it spells out a doctor's promise to cure, is one of the subtlest and most dangerous of poisons.
The most important story we'll ever write in life is our own-not with ink, but with our daily choices.
Never argue with people who buy ink by the gallon.
Text is just ink on a page until a reader comes along and gives it life.
but paper and ink have conjuring abilities of their own. arrangements of lines and shapes, of letters and words on a series of pages make a world we can dwell and travel in.
Some people, in order to discover God, read books. But there is a great book: the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Read it. God, whom you want to discover, never wrote that book with ink. Instead, He set before your eyes the things that He had made. Can you ask for a louder voice than that?
The strong do not hesitate. They settle down, they sweat, they go on to the end. They exhaust the ink, they use up the paper.
Pale ink is better than the most retentive memory. If it's written down, you can look it up. Just be damn sure you write it down.
That's why writers write—to say things loudly with ink. To give feet to thoughts; to make quiet, still feelings loudly heard.
A newspaper is lumber made malleable. It is ink made into words and pictures. It is conceived, born, grows up and dies of old age in a day.
I have designed my style pantomimes as white ink drawings on black backgrounds, so that man's destiny appears as a thread lost in an endless labyrinth. I have tried to shed some gleams of light on the shadow of man startled by his anguish.
I've always subscribed to an old Chinese proverb that the palest ink is better than the best memory.
The ink of the scholar is more sacred than the blood of the martyr.
Black ink was always my favorite. I loved it. And then one day I realized that the only thing I ever wanted to do was to paint.
People keep telling me I never lived up to my potential, that I wasted my talent. . . I just didn't have as much as people thought. I got more ink for doing less than any pitcher who ever lived.
The product of paper and printed ink, that we commonly call the book, is one of the great visible mediators between spirit and time, and, reflecting zeitgeist, lasts as long as ore and stone.
My page was too white My ink was too thin The day wouldn't write What the night pencilled in.
It's not the ink, it's the think.
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