Quotes About Ink

L'écrit ça arrive comme le vent, c'est nu, c'est de l'encre, c'est l'écrit, et ça passe comme rien d'autre ne passe dans la vie, rien de plus, sauf elle, la vie. »

It was cheerful inside, without the aggressive Easy Rider feel of some of the other tattoo parlors in the city, where the handle-jawed thugs wielding the tattoo guns looked like ink was just a side job, their main work, contract killings.

If it's my fate to have a scribbler for a husband, why must you scribble in Yehupetz? Isn't there enough ink in Kasrilevke?

At some unnoticed moment, I began to understand that a life is written in indelible ink.

Tattoos are a permanent commitment of passion

To recklessly excuse a failure is to believe that I've effectively erased it from the story of my life, when I've actually imprinted it in indelible ink.

He that uses many words for the explaining any subject doth, like the cuttlefish, hide himself for the most part in his own ink.

Must stop. This ink is amazing, it really doesn't smear, even when you cry on it

Ellen looked around the room with an odd expression, for the first few seconds not taking in the collection spread across the tables, but just taking in the library: the smell of ink and foxy paper and old wood, the green view of the river beyond the leaded casement window propped open just an inch. As if she loved it, but was a little scared to be there.

The young man seated himself at a writing desk, selected a reed pen, fixed its point with a small knife, dipped it in a jar of ink, and wrote on a scrap of paper. There was something arcane, hieratic, about his manner. Scriptorium … Suddenly Ellery realized what it was: with his own eyes, in the century of rocket experimentation and quantum physics, he was actually beholding a scribe at work in the manner of the ancients. In silence he picked up the piece of paper. Sanquetum.

So don't try to touch my heart, it's darker than you think And don't try to read my mind because it's full of disappearing ink

Perhaps there are people in this world who love their fountain pens with every fiber of their being—and that's very sad. If you're not in love with him, you can understand him.

The whole purpose of the Bible, it seems to me, is to convince people to set the written word down in order to become living words in the world for God's sake. For me, this willing conversion of ink back to blood is the full substance of faith.

The distractions then were card catalogs and dust and the smell of old paper and ink. The distractions were deep.

I use dull colors in my drawings because I started out using a root beer base, because it seemed like an interesting idea, and when it turned out that it worked quite well as an ink, I started using other colors that would complement it, like grays from Higgins black writing ink and, more recently, Dr. P.H. Martin's olive green and vermilion.

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.

But, he realised, even in his panic he had not wanted to smudge the creamy paper by shutting the book while the ink was wet.

The act of writing itself is like an act of love. There is contact. There is exchange too. We no longer know whether the words come out of the ink onto the page, or whether they emerge from the page itself where they were sleeping, the ink merely giving them colour.

A light white, a disgras, an ink spot, a rosy charm.

I love the way my tattoos look. I especially love Japanese-style tattoos and being completely sleeved by them, so it's not just these little individual and unrelated pieces, but everything's working together to create a larger design.

I'm a big guy and I can't have any tiny tattoos.

I use Pilot's document ink, but their drawing ink is OK, too. It's just that I don't like the impression that clings to the pen tip.

She opened the book on his lap. The pages were densely packed with a neat cursive script; the ink was a pale purple, but each and every i was dotted with a small, red heart. Tom imagined dozens of bottles of colored ink, stored neatly under her (permanently stained) pillow.

The very ink with which all history is written is merely fluid prejudice.