I am probably exaggerating a little, but I owe my equilibrium to ink and paper.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Sometimes I worry about the amount of paper I waste.
I still do some inking here and there and I've actually got a book that I'm going to ink entirely.
I'm a very spoiled writer. I need to be indolent, to waste a lot of paper. I'm inefficient.
But, right now, the situation is that almost all of my writing is out of print.
I admit that I am hopelessly hooked on the printed newspaper. I love turning the pages and the serendipity of stumbling across a piece of irresistible information or a photograph that I wasn't necessarily intending to read.
Anything beats an expensive stack of paper.
I don't want to give too much ink to foolish men.
Over the years I must have spent thousands of hours silently brushing on the liquid coatings, preparing each sheet in anticipation of reaching the perfect print.
I'm the sort of person who doesn't write in ink. I only write in pencil, so it can be rubbed out.
Paper and ink are all but trash, if I cannot find the thought which the writer did think.