ink

When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him12 ounces of paper and ink and glueöyou sell him a whole new life.

—Morley, Christopher Darlington

Hatred is always a sin, my mother told me. Remember that.One drop of hatred in your soul will spread and discoloreverything like a drop of black ink inwhite milk. I was struck by that and meant to try it, but knew I shouldn't waste the milk.

—Munro, Alice ne¤  e Laidlaw

My pappy told me never to bet my bladder against a brewery or get into an argument with people who buy ink by the barrel.

—Kirkland, (Joseph) Lane

The great enemy of clear language is insincerity. When there is a gap between one's real and one's declared aims, one turns instinctively to long words and exhausted idiomsölike cuttlefish squirting out ink.

—Orwell, George pseudonym of  Eric Arthur Blair

Every drop of ink in my pen ran cold.

—Walpole, Horace, 4th Earl of Orford

One oughttoacknowledgethesignificance for mankind of the simultaneous invention of gunpowder and printer's ink.

—Kraus, Karl

To say that these men paid their shillings to watch twenty-two hirelings kick a ball is merely to say that a violin is wood and catgut, that Hamlet is so much paper and ink. For a shilling the Bruddersford United AFC offered you Conflict and Art.

—Priestley,J(ohn) B(oynton)

Ink, n. Avillainous compound†chiefly used to facilitate the infection of idiocyand promote intellectual crime.

—Bierce, Ambrose Gwinett

   Why didn't Eternity have this deformed age aborted ? Its birthmark is the stamp of a newspaper, its medium is printer's ink, and in its veins flows ink.

—Kraus, Karl

Neuere Poeten tun viel Wasser in dieTinte. Modern poets mix a lot of water with their ink.

—Goethe,JohannWolfgang von

Paintings are Rorschach ink blots. Theyare what you want them to be.

—Lichtenstein, Roy

It isnot good enough tospend time and ink indescribing the penultimate sensations and physical movements of people getting into a state of rut, we all know them so well.

—Galsworthy,John

'Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels By blood or ink; 'tis sweet to put an end To strife; 'tis sometimes sweet to have our quarrels, Particularly with a tiresome friend; Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels; Dear is the helpless creature we defend Against the world; and dear the schoolboy spot We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot.

—Rochdale