Quotes About Paper

Fire and paper - they do not mix well, n'est pas? Perhaps they mix too well.

the details gave the tone of the situation, the subtext without which the text could not be understood, and sharing this subtext with the reader was the natural tendency of reporters who, because of the nature of both the paper on which they worked and the city in which it was published, tended not to think of themselves as insiders.

All those moments, those memories. Everything that we are, compressed in just two or three kilos of paper — the weight of a human heart.

Jessie eyed Ebony. As a lawyer, her words had been her sharpest weapons, slicing her adversaries through the heart. Her hands never got dirty, and the only blood on them was from paper cuts. Conversely, Ebony infiltrated the trenches and clawed her way through the shit to ensure public safety

What is the point of trying to put down on paper emotions that are too complex, too huge, too overwhelming to be confined by an alphabet? Love isn't the only word that fails. Hate does, too.

If I could put my heart on paper and ink for you, I would have done it. Not because I'm crazy but to show you how much I love you. Wishing you a very Happy Birthday!

Despite the chronic shortages of almost every good and commodity, there was no shortage of paper, since everyone in the neighborhood was required to write confessions on a periodic basis. Even

Funeral notice in the paper." "I still don't know who you're talking about," the other ice fisherman groused. "Dressed funny," the guy at the other table recalled.

It is a racking thing to have a plague of ideas and no chance to get rid of them on paper. I've nearly gone mad at times.

Would you mind getting off that fly paper and giving the flies a chance?" "Ahhh, you can't trick me! Flies don't read papers!

I read a lot of research notes about the countries I visit, and my mum and dad bought me a Kindle, but I'm still getting to grips with it. I prefer paper books.

If ever again our nation stumbles upon unfunded paper, it shall surely be like death to our body politic. This country will crash.

I feel as if I can think only when I see the words flowing from the nib of my quill, that my thoughts make sense only when they are black ink on cream paper. I love the sensation of a thought in my head and the vision of the word on the page.

Penny brought home a paper with her teacher's marking on it, and all I can say is the man comes across like an illiterate ass. He writes don't end a sentence with a proposition. No, that's not a typo, and yes, you can end a sentence with a preposition.

He'd grown so addicted to the feel of those books—the individual differences in the bindings, the leather or fabric covers, the weight of papers, the smell. They were a very different experience than these Blanks, which all felt so . . . sterile, somehow. Words that could be readily dismissed and replaced didn't have the same moral heft to them, to him

An ecstasy of ink, every paragraph laboring to outline the shape of the world. The yellow light of a lamp on leaves of paper, the ivory-black impress of words reasoning, line by line.

For in the biting hush of ink on paper, where truth ought raise its head and speak without fear, I have long lied.

Paper clip. Ping. Disaster. Colonel Bowie is down. Colonel Bowie is down! The Mexican Army is now leaderless. Capone gloats.

All our yesterdays neatly shelved, time cataloged in drawers: News grows brittle and yellow under the library, in catacombs of paper.

The romantic fragrances of yellowing paper

I glanced back over my shoulder to see the Governor, shaking hands mechanically with the new arrival, staring after us with a face like white paper.

I see people doing things in their Blackberrys, and I need paper. Lines. Alphabets. I need to see it. It's so elementary, man.

I didn't throw the paper away. Maybe I should have. Oh, the things you know in retrospect.

And I bought myself a thick black notebook and cut some doves out of white paper and stuck them on the cover, and now I'm looking for a beginning. My name is Doris, and I'm baptized and Christian, and born too. We are living in the year 1931. Tomorrow, I'll write more.