Paper Quotes
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I was really relieved not to have to drag something in front of the camera; I could use a pencil and paper. A regular pencil and typing paper. That appealed to me.
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If you go out to some of the big cities in California, and you look at some of the monopoly situations out there, the thing is just shocking. And the tendency, and I think it's bound to be, unless it is carefully combated by those who are managing the papers, the tendency of a monopoly situation is bound to be to damp everything down to a common level.
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God's voice had been reduced to paper, and even that paper had to be moderated and deciphered by the proper authorities and intellect.
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But with writing, all you need is a pad of paper.
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I spent my life folded between the pages of books. In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters.
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I want you to understand the words. I want you taste the words. I want you to love the words. Because the words are important. But they're only words. You leave them on the paper and you take the thoughts and put them into your mind and then you as an actor recreate them, as if the thoughts had suddenly occurred to you.
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Sometimes there’s no one to listen to what you really might like to say at a certain moment. The paper always listens.
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If you write something down on paper, it becomes an actual goal. Before you write it down, it's a thought, a dream that may or may not get done.
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I don't know how much money I've got. I did ask the accountant how much it came to. I wrote it down on a bit of paper. But I've lost the bit of paper.
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I guess whenever I’m in the paper, it’s dealing with bridges falling apart, budget problems, pension crises – and saying we have to tackle these problems.
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A painter's got a canvas. The writer's got reams of empty paper. A musician has silence.
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Mine, said the stone,mine is the hour.I crush the scissors,such is my power.Stronger than wishes,my power, alone.Mine, said the paper,mine are the wordsthat smother the stonewith imagined birds,reams of them, flownfrom the mind of the shaper.Mine, said the scissors,mine all the knivesgashing through paper'sethereal lives;nothing's so properas tattering wishes.As stone crushes scissors,as paper snuffs stoneand scissors cut paper,all end alone.So heap up your paperand scissor your wishesand uproot the stonefrom the top of the hill.They all end aloneas you will, you will.
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When asked if I miss being in government, I usually try to lighten the moment by responding that I awake most days, read the paper, and then observe that, 'It's yet another great day to be the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency.'
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The business being thus closed . . . dined together and took a cordial leave of each other After which I returned to my lodgings, did some business with and received the papers from the secretary of the Convention, and retired to meditate on the momentous work which had been executed.
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Tomorrow Is My Exam But I Don’t Care Because A Single Sheet Of Paper Can’t Decide My Future.
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On a ship thats made of paper, I would sail the seven seas. (Just to be with you)
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I have many projects in various states of development. Some are on paper and some are in my head. But as I go on, I feel the need to be guided in my choices.
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I started working myself from about 14, really, so I wasn't a burden on my family. I did a paper round and a milk round. When I was 15 or 16, I worked in a supermarket on Saturdays stacking shelves, and then every summer I temped, right through university until my working days started.
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As a bookish adolescent, I sopped up texts as if I were blotting paper and they were fluid.
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I answered an ad, for a campus cartoonist at the university I was in, my freshman year. I was like, Oh, I can draw, and I'm sort of a funny guy. I should try this. Then they paid me to do a comic strip for the paper.
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The mind has been likened to a piece of paper that has been folded. Ever afterwards it has a tendency to fold in the same crease-unless we make a new crease or fold, when it will follow the last lines.
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They sat behind a screen, and grunted and wheezed over sheets of brown paper that looked as if ink-dipped and intoxicated spiders had danced across them.
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When you draw, you copy the world don't you? You remake it on paper, but it isn't the same. It's yours. No one else could have created it just like that. When I make poems, I use the words we all use, but the order and the sound create a new power. This wood is someone's creation. We stumble through it's tendrils, as if we're crawling through the synapses of his mind.
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I love my bed. It is larger than a desk and better designed to hold books and papers. It is softer than a desk and better designed for naps. It is the center of all good things. And day or night, everyone knows where to find me.
