Only government can take perfectly good paper, cover it with perfectly good ink and make the combination worthless.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.
The very ink with which history is written is merely fluid prejudice.
When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life.
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.
I dip my pen in the blackest ink, because I'm not afraid of falling into my inkpot.
I don't see the world unless I see it in ink.
A drop of ink may make a million think.
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
No pen, no ink, no table, no room, no time, no quiet, no inclination.
That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.
The blackest of fluid is used as an agent to enlighten the world.
Ink is the transcript of thought.
Stars ink your fingers
with a lexicon of flame
blazing rare knowledge.
Don't think it, ink it.
Never pick a fight with people who buy ink by the barrel.
Memory is more indelible than ink.
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.
How hard it is to make your thoughts look anything but imbecile fools when you paint them with ink on paper.
Without a doubt, first thing we should do is clean up our fiscal house, and that starts with balancing our budgets and digging out of this red ink. We cannot expect to continue in this fashion and remain the leader of the free world.
My gut feeling is that paper and ink are going to be with us for a long time yet, and in substantial quantities, though certainly books are now going to be available in other forms.
After I'd produced about two dozen pen and ink drawings, one evening I decided that they needed poems to accompany them. I still have no idea where that notion came from, but it took me about two hours to produce verses for these creatures.
I still do some inking here and there and I've actually got a book that I'm going to ink entirely.
My table is now brightly, now dimly lighted. Its temperature varies. It may receive an ink stain. One of its legs may be broken. It may be repaired, polished, and replaced part by part. But, for me, it remains the table at which I daily write.
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