“But words are things, and a small drop of ink,Falling, like dew, upon a thought producesThat which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.”
“But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think; ’T is strange, the shortest letter which man uses Instead of speech, may form a lasting link Of ages; to what straits old Time reduces Frail man, when paper — even a rag like this, Survives himself, his tomb, and all that’s his.”
“I think there's a secret part of me that would like to drop my entire life off a cliff and watch it break into a million pieces”
“in black ink my love may still shine bright.”
“An ocean of ink in a single drop,Trembling at the tip of my brush.Poised above stark white paper,A universe waits for existence.”