Pen Quotes
Quotes tagged as "pen"
Showing 1-30 of 160
“Anyone who thinks the pen is mightier than the sword has not been stabbed with both.”
― When Did You See Her Last?
― When Did You See Her Last?
“then things got even stranger.
Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.
"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.
Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.
With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tourement day.
Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.
My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.
She snarled, "Die, honey!"
And she flew straight at me.
Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally:I swung the sword.
The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed through her body as if she were made made of water. Hisss!
Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.”
―
Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.
"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.
Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.
With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tourement day.
Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.
My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.
She snarled, "Die, honey!"
And she flew straight at me.
Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally:I swung the sword.
The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed through her body as if she were made made of water. Hisss!
Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.”
―
“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.”
― Sisters of the Yam: Black Women and Self-Recovery
― Sisters of the Yam: Black Women and Self-Recovery
“Silence is death, and you, if you talk, you die, and if you remain silent, you die. So, speak out and die.”
―
―
“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.”
―
―
“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.”
― Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader
― Ex Libris: Confessions of a Common Reader
“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.”
― Pale Fire
[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.”
― Pale Fire
“When people starts to enjoy a writer's pen, he becomes a legend even if his stories are neither long nor publicly surrounded by expectations.”
―
―
“What you can win with a pen; you cannot win that with a weapon because love and peace hold a pen; hatred and violence take a gun.”
―
―
“Tickle my heart with your pen.
Write me for all to read.
Bind our love inside a book,
make me your poetry.”
―
Write me for all to read.
Bind our love inside a book,
make me your poetry.”
―
“All those memories....and a poem fell off my pen, a river broke loose somewhere and now they run stories through my soul..”
―
―
“Ik klom vanuit Seuna omhoog naar de hoofdweg. Tijdens dat soort wandelingen schrijf ik altijd. Schrijven zoals ik het bedoel. Ik strijk mijn geest glad als een leeg vel papier waarop allerlei gedachten en beelden zich omzetten in tekens en maten. Een stem die altijd met me meegaat leest ze aan me voor: ze is streng , ze neemt geen genoegen met goedkope oplossingen. Ze herhaalt voor me wat ik al heb geschreven en ze praat me na, gekscherend, wanneer ik niet de juiste woorden vind, wanneer een geur, een smaak, een plant, een ochtendhemel, zich niet wil omzetten in beeldenmuziek. Sommigen zouden wellicht zeggen dat het mijn innerlijke stem is. Ik zeg alleen dat ze er is, en dat ze misschien wel de enige persoon is die me nooit in de steek heeft gelaten.
De vloek van dichters: ze houden nooit op met schrijven. En het laatste wat ze nodig hebben is wel pen en papier…”
―
De vloek van dichters: ze houden nooit op met schrijven. En het laatste wat ze nodig hebben is wel pen en papier…”
―
“Writer's Block
I sit down peacefully with my book.
Upon the blank page I look.
As i tap my pen patiently, patiently,
Patiently waiting in my writing nook.”
―
I sit down peacefully with my book.
Upon the blank page I look.
As i tap my pen patiently, patiently,
Patiently waiting in my writing nook.”
―
“Don't be afraid to rewrite your story; you hold the pen.”
― Why Sell Lies When The Truth Is Free
― Why Sell Lies When The Truth Is Free
“After all when writing your story, only you should yield your pen, no one else! Don't let any one else but yourself control your own narrative!”
― Peruvian Nights
― Peruvian Nights
“Writing was what saved the stutterer. It saved him the trouble of speaking.”
― Stamerenophobia
― Stamerenophobia
“A revolutionary idea about writing. The profound writers are not always holding the pens, immersed in word extraction. They are those who are experiencing life richly, and deeply, falling in love with it, And the moment comes when the words fall off the pen by the light of depths, for writing then becomes a love affair of the soul.”
―
―
“The history that you are writing today will become the both the legacy of your yesterday as well as the template of your tomorrow. Therefore, think before you pick up the pen.”
―
―
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