Best friend is like a pen and we’re the paper. We’ll not complete without their ink
Love rocks. Stones also rock. I wish I could scissors paper my way into your heart.
To be a novelist, all I need is a pen and a piece of paper.
The paper is my savior, the pen my blood, to words that shed my world.
Even a broken heart doesn’t warrant a waste of good paper.
The paper burns, but the words fly free.
Writing is the dancing of the mind on a stage called paper.
I don’t need a piece of paper to suggest that I can commit myself.
My life looked good on paper – where, in fact, almost all of it was being lived.
Pencil. Paper. Forget the world.
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