Quotes on Pens

Let me tell you what I look like: pale face, long hair, and a tiny start of a paunch. In addition, an awkward gait, and a cigar in the mouth and a pen in pocket or hand.

The pen is the tongue of the soul; as are the thoughts engendered there, so will be the things written.

One ought only to write when one leaves a piece of one's own flesh in the inkpot, each time one dips one's pen.

Well, my book is written-let it go. But if it were only to write over again there wouldn't be so many things left out. They burn in me; and they keep multiplying; but now they can't ever be said. And besides, they would require a library-and a pen warmed up in hell.

But till we are built like angels, with hammer and chisel and pen, we will work for ourself and a woman, forever and ever, Amen.

Dreams are the eraser dust I blow off my page._x000D_ _x000D_ They fade into the emptiness, another dark gray day._x000D_ _x000D_ Dreams are only memories of the plans I had back then._x000D_ _x000D_ Dreams are eraser dust and now I use a pen.

Then my verse I dishonor, my pictures despise, my person degrade and my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; and my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.

For poetry, he's past his prime,_x000D_ _x000D_ He takes an hour to find a rhyme;_x000D_ _x000D_ His fire is out, his wit decayed,_x000D_ _x000D_ His fancy sunk, his muse a jade._x000D_ _x000D_ I'd have him throw away his pen,_x000D_ _x000D_ But there's no talking to some men.

Let us pick up our books and our pens. They are our most powerful weapons. One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world.

One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world.

How wonderful it is to be able to write someone a letter! To feel like conveying your thoughts to a person, to sit at your desk and pick up a pen, to put your thoughts into words like this is truly marvelous.

read thousands of books and I will power myself with knowledge. Pens and books are the weapons that defeat terrorism.

God is not remote from us. He is at the point of my pen, my (pick) shovel, my paint brush, my (sewing) needle - and my heart and thoughts.

As writers we live life twice, like a cow that eats its food once and then regurgitates it to chew and digest it again. We have a second chance at biting into our experience and examining it. ...This is our life and it's not going to last forever. There isn't time to talk about someday writing that short story or poem or novel. Slow down now, touch what is around you, and out of care and compassion for each moment and detail, put pen to paper and begin to write.

But I am I now; and so many other millions are so irretrievably their own special variety of 'I' that I can hardly bear to think of it. I: how firm a letter; how reassuring the three strokes: one vertical, proud and assertive, and then the two short horizontal lines in quick, smug succession. The pen scratching on the paper…I…I…I…I…I…I.

Oh! why was I born with a different face? why was I not born like the rest of my race? when I look,each one starts! when I speak, I offend; then Im silent & passive & lose every friend. Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despise, my person degrade & my temper chastise; and the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame; all my talents I bury, and dead is my fame. Im either too low or too highly prized; when elate I m envy'd, when meek Im despis'd

This is the nature of love." Vashet said. "To attempt to describe it will drive a woman mad. This is what keeps poets scribbling endlessly away. If one could pin it to paper all complete, the others would lay down their pens. But it cannot be done.

The pen is the language of the soul; as the concepts that in it are generated, such will be its writings.

Jesus is too colossal for the pen of phrasemongers, however artful. No man can dispose of Christianity with a bon mot

The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor.

Leop­ards break in­to the tem­ple and drink all the sac­ri­fi­cial ves­sels dry; it keeps hap­pen­ing; in the end, it can be cal­cu­lat­ed in ad­vance and is in­cor­po­rat­ed in­to the rit­ual.