Action is the ink that writes what you think on the pages of life!

— Constance Chuks Friday

A letter to the beloved is like the ink kissing the paper. (One letter à l'Aimee, c'est - L'encore embrassant LE paper)

— Charles de Leusse

And then another letter had come from Christopher, so devastating that Amelia wondered how mere scratches of ink on paper could rip someone's soul to shreds. She had wondered how she could feel so much pain and still survive.

— Lisa Kleypas

A poetess is not as selfish as you assume. After months of agonizing over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom, she knows that as soon as she has penned the poem, it’s yours to consume. So, without giving it a think, she blows on the inland the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day, landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips. But more often than not, you can easily spot them trodden and forgotten, becoming sodden and rotten. Yet, she will continue to make what’s others to take because selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

— Kamand Kojouri

Best friend is like a pen and we're the paper. We'll not complete without their ink

— Lucy 'Aisy

Brahma and AiravataLong ago in lands of golden sand Brahma turned to Saraswatiand gently kissed her inked hand....

— Muse

Don't shrink your standards, link yourself with those who think and ink like you.

— Michael Bassey Johnson

Do you trust me?" She could still hear him, through flesh and noise." I love you!" she shouted. It wasn't the answer he'd expected or the'd expected to give. It was the wrong time, the wrong thing to say, but her answer lit a fire in his eyes.

— Dawn Metcalf

Featherweight by Suzy Assemble evening, I sat by the ocean and questioned the moon about my destiny. I revealed to it that I was beginning to feel smaller compared to others, Because the more secrets of the universe I would unlock, The smaller I became. I didn't understand why I wasn't feeling larger instead of smaller. I thought that seeking Truth was what was required of us all –To show us the way, not to make us feel lost, Up against the odds, In a devilish game partitioned ban invisible wall. Then the next morning, A bird appeared at my window, just as the sun began Spreading its yolk over the horizon. It remained perched for a long time, Gazing at me intently, to make sure I knew I wasn’t dreaming. Then its words gently echoed throughout my mind, Telling me:'The world you are in –Is the true hell. The journey to Truth itself Is what quickens the heart to become lighter. The lighter the heart, the purer it is. The purer the heart, the closer to light it becomes. And the heavier the heart, The more chained to this hell It will remain.' And just like that, it flew off towards the sun, Leaving behind a tiny feather. So I picked it up, And fastened it to a toothpick, To dip into inland write my name.

— Suzy Kassem

For the first time in my life, I'm doubting my faith, and it terrifies me. For the first time, I want to change the rules. For the first time I wonder: does it matter what it says on your skin, when what's at stake is your soul?

— Alice Broadway