I Need More Ink Quotes & Sayings
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Top I Need More Ink Quotes

He saw her draw closer in the mirror. Her black hair was an ink splash against the white tile walls. She paused behind him. "You protected me, Kaz."
"The fact that you're bleeding through your bandages tells me otherwise."
She glanced down. A red blossom of blood had spread on the bandage tied around her shoulder. She tugged awkwardly at the strip of towel. "I need Nina to fix this one."
He didn't mean to say it. He meant to let her go. "I can help you."
Her gaze snapped to his in the mirror, wary as if gauging an opponent. I can help you. They were the first words she'd spoken to him, standing in the parlor of the Menagerie, draped in purple silk, eyes lined in kohl. She had helped him. And she'd nearly destroyed him. Maybe he should let her finish the job. — Leigh Bardugo

And then there are the cravings.. Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows.
She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn't dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Then why does every sentence beginning 'We need to talk' end in disaster? Our whole evolutionary history has been about trying to stop information from getting communicated - camouflage, protective coloration, that ink that squids squirt, encrypted passwords, corporate secrets, lying. Especially lying. If people really wanted to communicate, they'd tell the truth, but they don't. — Connie Willis

I had to jump around in the arts for a while just to survive. I earned a little money here and there, playing the guitar at union meetings, functions. I sold some science-fiction stories. I knew there was absolutely no question of me not being connected with the arts, but I couldn't find any acting jobs. — Alan Arkin

One day Your dog is going to safe your life, that's a fact. — Deyth Banger

Journalists should think of themselves as outside the Establishment, and owners can't be too worried about what they're told at their country clubs. — Rupert Murdoch

Then I lean back and take in the side of her, every speck of flesh, every freckle, every line of ink she has. So fucking gorgeous I can't stand it. I feel like I'm about to combust. I want her so badly that my body is throbbing, my veins pulsating with desire and need.
The need to be with her.
Forever.
And ever.
And ever.
And when I open my mouth to say it, this time it's different - this time it means more than the first time I said it, because I know I can say it and it'll be welcomed not feared.
"I love you too, Violet Hayes," I whisper then let my lips crash against her showing her with my mouth just how much I mean it.
God, do I fucking mean it. More than anything else in my life. — Jessica Sorensen

If ever you need it, I will level mountains to give you a desk. Even if an army is at our door, I'll hold them off until your ink runs dry. — Meljean Brook

He dropped his arms on the bed and peered over at Jenna.
She lay on her side facing him, hand tucked under her chin, not looking the least bit settled or relaxed.
"Whatchu need?"
"You." She spoke the word without and hesitation, any doubt, any seeming self-consciousness. — Laura Kaye

Never let me lose you, Ink. Never let me screw this up. And never think for one moment that I don't love you, need you or want you with me. — Dawn Metcalf

Tori glanced at the clock and bit back a curse. Hannah didn't need to learn any more bad words from her own mother. That's what public school was for.
Gayle, Eliza (2013-04-30). Levi's Ultimatum, Purgatory Masters Book 2 (Kindle Locations 197-198). Gypsy Ink Books. Kindle Edition. — Eliza Gayle

You ask me why I write. You might as well ask me why I breathe. I need oxygen to feed my body and ink to feed my soul. — Bryce Main

The paper is my savior, the pen my blood, to words that shed my world. — Anthony Liccione

No, I say, it's fine.
Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.
Just great, I say. Really. — Chuck Palahniuk

Every time we look at the clock, we must learn to feel a sense of urgency. We must learn to realize that "now" is happening and will very soon be gone. We must look at the digits on the display and be overcome with an urge to do something before those digits change. Before "now" slips through our fingers. We must look at the ink on the calendar and see an immediate opportunity to do something wonderful, incredible, or beautiful.
It's that simple. We need to change our thinking from "when the number changes" to "before the number changes". — Dan Pearce

People need foundation myths, some imprint of year zero, a bolt that secures the scaffolding that in turn holds fast the entire architecture of reality, of time: memory-chambers and oblivion-cellars, walls between eras, hallways that sweep us on towards the end-days and the coming whatever-it-is. We see things shroudedly, as through a veil, an over-pixellated screen. When the shapeless plasma takes on form and resolution, like a fish approaching us through murky waters or an image looming into view from noxious liquid in a darkroom, when it begins to coalesce into a figure that's discernible, if ciphered, we can say: This is it, stirring, looming even if it isn't really, if it's all just ink-blots. — Tom McCarthy

Hailey winked, then came over to Callie. "Sit down and tell me what you need."
"A man?" she blurted, then shut her eyes. Damn. Totally not what she meant to say.
Hailey threw her head back and laughed. "It's about time you said that, although I don't know if you need a man so much as to get laid."
The other customer at the counter sputtered his coffee and Callie laughed, turning to him. "She meant that I don't need a man in my life, just an orgasm. I'm not a lesbian. Well, I made out with a couple girls when I was, like, nineteen, but that was just experimenting. It's good to make sure you're sure about what you want, you know?"
The man blushed hard, put money on the counter, and scurried away. — Carrie Ann Ryan

We grew still and stared at each other. It seemed incredibly dangerous to look into each other's eyes, but we were doing it. For how long can you behold another person? Before you have to think of yourself again, like dipping the brush back in for more ink. For a very long time, you didn't need to get more ink, there was no reason to get anything else, because she was as good as me, she lived on earth like me, she suffered as I did. — Miranda July

You'll have to pardon me," the magus said. "But with your country at war I can't see how any of it really matters."
Standing up, Eugenides pulled the papers from the magus's hands. "It matters, because I can't do anything, anymore, for this country, and it matters," he yelled as he threw the papers back to his desk, "because I only have one hand and it isn't even the right one!" Turning, he picked an inkpot off the desk and threw it to shatter on the door of his wardrobe, spraying black ink across the pale wood and onto the wall. Black drops like rain stained the sheets of his bed.
...
Eddis sighed. "Will you sit down and stop shouting?" she asked.
"I'll stop shouting. I won't sit down. I might need to throw more inkpots. — Megan Whalen Turner

Kindness toward the voiceless or the vulnerable, like animals and children, usually denoted good character in a person. — Jeaniene Frost

Ghost shook his head as he sat on the very edge of the bed, poised to take flight if need be. The spiral under his hair felt warm, almost painful, but he resisted the urge to rub it. It never helped when he did, and he was not sure what Gerry would do if the man saw it. The Witch had a symbol she called a triskele, the ink a vivid scarlet still, but no male that had ever come for healing bore a mark like hers, or like his. He had never found the words to ask the Witch about it, about why he was marked like a witch. — Morwen Navarre

Epistemology without contact with science becomes an empty scheme. Science without epistemology is-insofar as it is thinkable at all-primitive and muddled. — Albert Einstein

Some acts are tricky. Eartha Kitt was tricky in a wonderful, old-style way. She did yoga on the piano and put her hands over her ears when the other acts were on. — Jools Holland

He recognized this particular act for what it was: a woman's need to mark her man. The scary part was, he didn't care. Hell, at this moment, if she wanted to tattoo her name on his ass, he'd go buy the fucking ink. — Alannah Lynne

You haven't given me any ink," he said.
"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies.
He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel - yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.
"Yes?"
"Nothing," said Harry quietly. — J.K. Rowling

YOU WEREN'T born choking on no silver spoon, you know how it goes when you go looking for a job and you need one: You wait in the first indifferent room, ink in the forms, apply in another room with linoleum that's waxy and squeaks and overhead lights that don't miss a thing; then there's the desk and the person behind it who thinks he's an admiral, or it's a she and she thinks she's now in line for the throne to somewhere, and next you're kissing ass and aw-shucksing toward the desk, telling how bad all your life you've been wanting to be night janitor in a chemical plant, or hog wrangler in a slaughterhouse, or pizza delivery boy, how you've laid awake in bed gettin' goose bumps just from imagining how high and wide your life might someday be lived if ever you could average five dollars and forty cents an hour. But — Daniel Woodrell

Titles or awards are not the mark of your success. They are the beginning of a life-long sadhana. — Shreya Ghoshal

What's got you smilin' like a bitch who just had good cock?" I was interrupted by a sexy drawl.
I looked up to see Nash leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of him, sexy smirk plastered on his face. He was tall, all muscle and ink; he exuded a couldn't-give-a-fuck attitude. Nash was one of the cockiest men I had ever met and the women flocked to him.
I rolled my eyes. "Can a woman not smile unless she's had cock?" I asked.
He uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the door frame; coming towards me, "No, sweet thing, it all comes down to cock."
"Well, I hate to tell you, Nash, but this woman hasn't had any today, and yet I am still smiling. I think your theory is a little off." I loved bantering back and forth with him.
He raised his eyebrows. "J's fallin' down on the job there sweetheart. You sure you don't want to jump ships? I've got all you'll ever need," he grinned at me, opening his arms wide in an inviting gesture. — Nina Levine

Tears upon tears splat on to the lined pages in my hands as I read about a nightmare come true. Quickly, I wipe away the saltwater so it won't fade the ink. Because even as my chest caves in and makes me hate the chipper birds and everything else, I know that I needed to read this today, and I need to read it again tomorrow.
For me, reading is remembering. — Cat Patrick

And even if she loses the charms, she thinks, they'll always be a part of her. The things that matter stay with you, seep into your skin. People get tattoos to have a permanent reminder of things they love or believe or fear, but though she'll never regret the turtle, she has no need to ink her flesh again to remember the past. She had not known the markings would be etched so deep. A — Christina Baker Kline

What happened? Who do I need to kill? — Carrie Ann Ryan

There is no need for unanimity," Saint- Just said. "It would have been desirable, but let's get on. There are only two signatures wanting, I think, besides those who have refused. Citizen Lacoste, you next - then be so good as to put the paper in front of Citizen Robespierre, and move the ink a little nearer. — Hilary Mantel

Reading things that are relevant to the facts of your life is of limited value. The facts are, after all, only the facts, and the yearning passionate part of you will not be met there. That is why reading ourselves as a fiction as well as fact is so liberating. The wider we read the freer we become. — Jeanette Winterson

Life is a verb, life swerves and lurches no matter how cautious and careful your driving. — Brian Doyle

Sincerity is technique. — W. H. Auden