Inkpot Quotes & Sayings

Inability to tell good from evil is the greatest worry of man's life. — Marcus Tullius Cicero

Too much comedy is filthy these days. There's nothing they won't say. I like Jimmy Carr, but I don't like the language he uses. I don't understand why he feels it necessary; I find it extremely offensive. — Bobby Davro

Yeah, I am crazy. Ok. May be I am. But I prefer to be crazy than being a dummy. — Ravindra Shukla

Willie went out and buttonholed folks on the street and tried to explain things to them. You could see Willie standing on a street corner, sweating through his seersucker suit, with his hair down in his eyes, holding an old envelope in one hand and a pencil in the other, working out figures to explain what he was squawking about, but folks don't listen to you when your voice is low and patient and you stop them in the hot sun and make them do arithmetic. — Robert Penn Warren

As the sun rose I could see Etna, a truncated cone with a plume of smoke over it like the quill of a pen stuck in a pewter inkpot, rising out of the haze to the north of where I was treading water. — Eric Newby

He dipped the quill into the inkpot, leaned over the first parchment, paused, looked up. "Would you prefer me to sing Yollo or Hugor Hill?"

Brown Ben crinkled up his eyes. "Would you prefer to be returned to Yezzan's heirs or just beheaded?"

The dwarf laughed and signed the parchment, Tyrion of House Lannister. — George R R Martin

You could say that I worked every minute of my life, or you could say with equal justice that I never worked a day. — Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi

As we sat there, the door opened, just barely, and a hand slid inside and dropped a set of keys on a side table.
"Thanks, Garrett!" I called out.
He gave me a thumbs-up and closed the door.
"How do you suppose he knew we were performing sexual favors on each other?" I asked, snuggling against my man again.
"Possibly because you screamed my name about seven times. — Darynda Jones

A wonderful man, Ivan Ivanovich! He has a great love of melons. They're his favorite food. As soon as he finishes dinner and goes out to the gallery in nothing but his shirt, he immediately tells Gapka to bring two melons. Then he cuts them up himself, collects the seeds in a special piece of paper, and begins to eat. Then he tells Gapka to bring the inkpot and himself, with his own hand, writes on the paper with the seeds: "This melon was eaten on such-and-such date." If there was some guest at the time, then: "with the participation of so-and-so. — Nikolai Gogol

I always say that photography's closest cousin is poetry because of the way it sparks your imagination and leaves gaps for the viewer to fill in. — Alec Soth

I dip my pen in the blackest ink, because I'm not afraid of falling into my inkpot. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Perhaps it was the lure of marrying a king. Or the vain hope you might be the one to stay the course and win the heart of a monster. — Renee Ahdieh

That is what the title of artist means: one who perceives more than his fellows, and who records more than he has seen. — Edward Gordon Craig

Thus the British Empire came into existence; and thus - for there is no stopping damp; it gets into the inkpot as it gets into the woodwork - sentences swelled, adjectives multiplied, lyrics became epics, and little trifles that had been essays a column long were now encyclopaedias in ten or twenty volumes. — Virginia Woolf

Will you at least have some coffee with me before you leave?" Furi pouted, immediately feeling silly for it.

"Dude. You're way too tatted up to ever make that face." Doug laughed. He bent over and pressed a kiss to Furi's forehead. "I will not have a cup of your nasty coffee. I will however, take you to breakfast and drink some real coffee with you."

Furi felt better already. He stood, wrapped his arms around Doug, and whispered, "Thank you for last night. I needed it."

"I know. Now go get dressed." Doug popped him on the shoulder. — A.E. Via

What you don't know about women is alot. — Olympia Dukakis

One ought only to write when one leaves a piece of one's own flesh in the inkpot, each time one dips one's pen. — Leo Tolstoy

His fame as an artist requires very tender care. Look what a mask of diplomacy is painstakingly formed by the whole of that fine profile; he is as wily as a cardinal. He has scented in Miss White a useful agent of celebrity, and he has come solely to harness her to the cause of his glory. It is himself that he courts by means of the salaams he offers to her; he only ever flirts with himself. He is the Narcissus of the inkpot ... — Jean Lorrain

A work of art is somehow organic, and to slash a painting or smash a statue is not just an offence against property: it is an offence against life. — Anthony Burgess

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

Groucho Marx continued to alternately call Margaret Dumont "a great lady" and to denigrate her in interviews. But he seemed, at the end, to realize how important she'd been to his career. When accepting his 1974 Lifetime Achievement Oscar, the ailing Groucho told the audience, "I only wish Harpo and Chico could have been here - and Margaret Dumont. — Eve Golden