When we put the pen to paper, we articulate things in our life that we may have felt vague about. Before you write about something, somebody says, ‘How do you feel?’ and you say, ‘Oh, I feel okay.’ Then you write about it, and you discover you don’t feel okay.
If you want to draw comics, you really have to love to draw, as you will be spending many hours sitting down with a pencil or pen in your hand.
People say that the most expensive piece of medical equipment is the doctor’s pen. It’s not that we make all the money. It’s that we order all the money.
When you handwrite something, you’re writing your most raw, pure thoughts. If you want to change it, then you have to mark it out, and people can see you laboring over that thought. I think even the act of hand, pen, and paper is much more intimate than with a computer screen.
Now, as an astronaut, I have to bring a Sharpie with me everywhere – so I have a pen to sign autographs.
I usually dream of melodies. When I wake up I have them in my head. I usually come up with things in the middle of the night because that’s when my mind is the quietest. I always have my tape recorder, pen and pad by my bed just in case.
In a mood of faith and hope my work goes on. A ream of fresh paper lies on my desk waiting for the next book. I am a writer and I take up my pen to write.
I am proud to wear the name Le Pen.
Marine Le Pen belongs to her generation, I belong to mine. I got into politics for Marine Le Pen and with her as party leader.
The one ironclad rule is that I have to try. I have to walk into my writing room and pick up my pen every weekday morning.
Something different happens to my brain when I put pen to paper: the pace of writing or drawing slows you down and gives you more time for thoughts to come in.
Farmers will not see good days unless their produce gets a guaranteed price. Even a notebook, a pen, or a soap has a price printed on it, but the milk that farmers sell do not have any price.
Under Obama, our federal tax dollars can now be used to fund abortion all over the world. With the stroke of a pen, abortion essentially became a U.S. foreign export.
I cannot write a speech. The pen is an extinguisher upon my mind and a torture to my nerves. I am the most habitual extemporaneous speaker that I have ever known.
I had some superstitions when I was little. And a winning pen is always a good thing to have.
Men have had every advantage of us in telling their own story. Education has been theirs in so much higher a degree; the pen has been in their hands. I will not allow books to prove anything.
I’m not formal and I’m impatient. So I think my team would say that when she starts tapping her pen and the leg starts moving quickly, that it’s time to move on. I’m not good at long, drawn-out kinds of sessions.
It’s called a pen. It’s like a printer, hooked straight to my brain.
The word processor is a better tool than a quill pen because you can do so much more with it, but on the other hand, what you have to say and how you say it is the ultimate determination.
When I read a book I liked, I would get a pen and one of my father’s legal pads and rewrite it from memory as if I had thought of it myself. It was a clear sign that I wanted to be involved in writing, even if it was just pretend at that point.
You know how in movies the new president comes in and promises to perform sweeping actions with a stroke of a pen? The Administrative Procedure Act is designed to thwart this sort of maneuver.
To hold a pen is to be at war.
I do my best to make every word from my pen a cry from the heart for the souls of the dead.
Music is the best way I can express myself, meaning that why I write and how I came to love music comes out through Xzibit. Who I am, who Alvin Joiner is, comes out when I pick up that pen and write.
I started keeping a diary in third grade and, in solidarity with Anne Frank, gave it a name and made it my confidante. To this day, I feel comforted and relieved of loneliness, no matter how foreign my surroundings, if I have a pad and a pen with which to record my experiences.
The possibility of being as free with the camera as we are with the pen is a fantastic prospect for the creative life of the 21st century.
I am addicted to the highlighter pen, my papers generally a garish mix of type, Biro, unreadable scribble and lashings of luminosity, as if they belong to the unhinged.
I’ve never voted in my life. I’ve never felt able to put my pen to a ballot paper because there was nobody I believed I could vote for. They were all working for the bankers. There was nobody for the people.
The pen is an instrument of discovery rather than just a recording implement. If you write a letter of resignation or something with an agenda, you’re simply using a pen to record what you have thought out.
Sheep may not be brilliant, but they know that sheep in pen is stage number one of lamb chops.
When I’m interviewing somebody, I take notes with a Bic Cristal, the classic black-cap, clear-body, medium-weight pen. It works on many levels: You can chew the cap, and if you’re really bored, you can bite the end off the back.
When Ando arrives in the studio, he picks up his pen even before he gets a cup of tea, and he stays seated until the very last train at night. He hardly eats, just nibbles at little balls of rice at his desk.
It is the little things that throw me – the wrong pen, the wrong font. An interview done standing up is a disaster. I need my knees to rest notes on.
If you have a great day at work and you’ve been hit with all these great ideas and there’s a lot of excitement on your team, your mind doesn’t turn off. For years I’ve kept a pad of paper and pen by me at night, because things just occur to you.
I was writing fantasy as soon as I could hold a pen.
I’m just writing, writing, writing. I keep these tablets on me until I’m inspired to go back in and make the music. I never take a break from my pen, because I pride myself on that.
The idea of a pseudonym had been flitting around my brain for a long time, along with its cognate, disappearance. In the 1980s, I published some poems under a pen name in a literary magazine to see what it would feel like. It was fun. It was even a little thrilling.
I still draw a lot though. Ballpoint pen is my preferred medium.
The name came about from me just closing my eyes and sticking a pen on a map of South Africa. St. Lucia was the fifth place that the pen landed on.
When you die, others who think they know you, will concoct things about you… Better pick up a pen and write it yourself, for you know yourself best.
Without hesitation, I’m voting Emmanuel Macron. Everything about the campaign of Marine Le Pen, despite its dressing of sovereignty, exudes fear and weakness.
Why would you not have a robot that looks like Abraham Lincoln? Why would it look like an erector set? Why use a computer with a punchcard, when you could use one with a touch pen on the screen? Why a car, when you could use a jetpack?
I love the idea of leaving some of the original abstract thought in, because the problem is that when you pick up a pen you become a snob, your own worse critic. You edit yourself in a way that is non-creative.
In the back of my mind was the constant hankering, almost yearning, to write but something always stopped me in my tracks. Or if I did find my way to put a pen to paper or finger on a keyboard I’d give up after a few minutes. I’d find other things to do: Anything but writing.
It’s so hard to do the right thing with a pen and a piece of paper and a set of abstract thoughts.
Never leave a pen around me – it will be gone.
Every day is a great day when you have a brand new Marlen pen.
When I was 15, we settled in Santa Monica, in a beige suburban ranch house. By then, my father, Ray, was an architect at Welton Becket’s firm. He was handy with a pencil and pen. His figurative drawings were very good, and his talent was intimidating.
I made an awful mess of my first marriage. It was hard to live with me being me. I was so abnormal. I mean, most writers struggle. I hadn’t struggled. I couldn’t suddenly go down to the PEN Club and behave like a normal human being, because most of those guys were struggling to make a couple of thousand pounds a year.
In a mood of faith and hope my work goes on. A ream of fresh paper lies on my desk waiting for the next book. I am a writer and I take up my pen to write.
No two composers were more totally at home in front of the piano than Debussy and Chopin, hands to keys to strings to sound waves to pen and paper in one perfect gesture of inspiration.
Home has always been wherever I am. I’m not very attached to walls – or people, for that matter – so I’ve always loved travelling around. A book in my back pocket, a diary, and a pen is all I need to call any place home.
The last thing in the world I want to do is write something in memory of Walter Mischel. I still can’t quite accept that he’s gone. And so I procrastinate, and with every day I don’t put pen to paper, I reinforce his life’s work with my reluctance.
When I say artist I mean the man who is building things – creating molding the earth – whether it be the plains of the west – or the iron ore of Penn. It’s all a big game of construction – some with a brush – some with a shovel – some choose a pen.
