"pen"タグの名言

The strokes of the pen need deliberation as much as the sword needs swiftness.

Every single day in a thousand different ways, the script that I am writing across the pages of my life is dramatically impacting how others are writing theirs. And if I dare to recognize that I am writing far more scripts than this single one that I hold in my hand, would I not hold the page of this day and apply the pen of how I lived it in an unimaginably different way?

the intensity in your eyes burns my pen as i write.

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue/ Who says my hand a needle better fits./ A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong/ For such despite they cast on female wits;/ If what I do prove well, it won't advance,/ They'll say it's stolen, or else, it was by chance.

Silence is death, and you, if you talk, you die, and if you remain silent, you die. So, speak out and die.

Muses are fickle, and many a writer, peering into the voice, has escaped paralysis by ascribing the creative responsibility to a talisman: a lucky charm, a brand of paper, but most often a writing instrument. Am I writing well? Thank my pen. Am I writing badly? Don't blame me blame my pen. By such displacements does the fearful imagination defend itself.

Pen-bereavement is a serious matter.

She looked at her hand: Just some hand, holding a cheap pen. Some girls’ hand. She had nothing to do with that hand. Let that hand do whatever it wanted to.

I mostly want to remind her of the recipes of healing, and give her my own made-on-the spot remedy for the easing of her pain. I tell her, “Get a pen. Stop crying so you can write this down and start working on it tonight.” My remedy is long. But the last item on the list says: “When you wake up and find yourself living someplace where there is nobody you love and trust, no community, it is time to leave town – to pack up and go (you can even go tonight). And where you need to go is any place where there are arms that can hold you, that will not let you go.

When the ink runs dry, you're most likely writing at the wrong angle.

And speaking of this wonderful machine: [840] I’m puzzled by the difference between Two methods of composing: A, the kind Which goes on solely in the poet’s mind, A testing of performing words, while he Is soaping a third time one leg, and B, The other kind, much more decorous, when He’s in his study writing with a pen. In method B the hand supports the thought, The abstract battle is concretely fought. The pen stops in mid-air, then swoops to bar [850] A canceled sunset or restore a star, And thus it physically guides the phrase Toward faint daylight through the inky maze. But method A is agony! The brain Is soon enclosed in a steel cap of pain. A muse in overalls directs the drill Which grinds and which no effort of the will Can interrupt, while the automaton Is taking off what he has just put on Or walking briskly to the corner store [860] To buy the paper he has read before.

NEVER TRUST ANYONE WHO HAS NOT BROUGHT A PEN WITH THEM .

The silence of the pen is only made louder by the sound of the ink running dry.

There's power in a pen.

Some stories are written by time, and not with a pen.

Our stories come from our lives and from the playwright's pen, the mind of the actor, the roles we create, the artistry of life itself and the quest for peace.

No pen can give an adequate description of the all-pervading corruption produced by slavery.

I've got a pen and I've got a phone - and I can use that pen to sign executive orders and take executive actions and administrative actions that move the ball forward.

There are two projects facing each other. There's Marine Le Pen's project of a fractured, closed France. On the other hand, you have my project which is a republican, patriotic project aiming at... reconciling France.

After all these years, I definitely associate having a pen in my hand with having an ashtray just out of eye line.