Fonts For Writing Quotes

Figures are the most shocking things in the world. The prettiest little squiggles of black looked at in the right light and yet consider the blow they can give you upon the heart.

Dearest creature in creation, Study English pronunciation. I will teach you in my verse Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. I will keep you, Suzy, busy, Make your head with heat grow dizzy. Tear in eye, your dress will tear. So shall I! Oh hear my prayer. Just compare heart, beard, and heard, Dies and diet, lord and word, Sword and sward, retain and Britain. (Mind the latter, how it’s written.) Now I surely will not plague you With such words as plaque and ague. But be careful how you speak: Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; Cloven, oven, how and low, Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe. Hear me say, devoid of trickery, Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, Exiles, similes, and reviles; Scholar, vicar, and cigar, Solar, mica, war and far; One, anemone, Balmoral, Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; Gertrude, German, wind and mind, Scene, Melpomene, mankind. Billet does not rhyme with ballet, Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. Blood and flood are not like food, Nor is mould like should and would. Viscous, viscount, load and broad, Toward, to forward, to reward. And your pronunciation’s OK When you correctly say croquet, Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve, Friend and fiend, alive and live. Ivy, privy, famous; clamour And enamour rhyme with hammer. River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb, Doll and roll and some and home. Stranger does not rhyme with anger, Neither does devour with clangour. Souls but foul, haunt but aunt, Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant, Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger, And then singer, ginger, linger, Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge, Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age. Query does not rhyme with very, Nor does fury sound like bury. Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth. Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath. Though the differences seem little, We say actual but victual. Refer does not rhyme with deafer. Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer. Mint, pint, senate and sedate; Dull, bull, and George ate late. Scenic, Arabic, Pacific, Science, conscience, scientific. Liberty, library, heave and heaven, Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven. We say hallowed, but allowed, People, leopard, towed, but vowed. Mark the differences, moreover, Between mover, cover, clover; Leeches, breeches, wise, precise, Chalice, but police and lice; Camel, constable, unstable, Principle, disciple, label. Petal, panel, and canal, Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal. Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair, Senator, spectator, mayor. Tour, but our and succour, four. Gas, alas, and Arkansas. Sea, idea, Korea, area, Psalm, Maria, but malaria. Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean. Doctrine, turpentine, marine. Compare alien with Italian, Dandelion and battalion. Sally with ally, yea, ye, Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key. Say aver, but ever, fever, Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver. Heron, granary, canary. Crevice and device and aerie. Face, but preface, not efface. Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass. Large, but target, gin, give, verging, Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging. Ear, but earn and wear and tear Do not rhyme with here but ere. Seven is right, but so is even, Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen, Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk, Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work. Pronunciation (think of Psyche!) Is a paling stout and spikey? Won’t it make you lose your wits, Writing groats and saying grits? It’s a dark abyss or tunnel: Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale, Islington and Isle of Wight, Housewife, verdict and indict. Finally, which rhymes with enough, Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough? Hiccough has the sound of cup. My advice is to give up!!!

And these years later, when I think of that essay, what I remember most is not the moment I saw my work in New Yorker font, not when I saw the illustration of my father, not the congratulatory phone calls and notes that followed, but that predawn morning in my bedroom, at my desk, the lights of cars below on Broadway, my computer screen glowing in the dark.

Journaling is the single most effective tool you may ever find for deeper intimacy with Father God and Jesus. It is a heart-to-heart method of communication with God. For you see, it is God’s desire to intimately commune with you and to have you intimately commune with Him. Journaling facilitates this heart-to-heart communion—it is simply listening to each other’s heart and writing it down. Journaling helps you hear God’s voice. God is speaking to you most of the time. Often you do not differentiate His voice from your own thoughts and therefore do not realize you are actually hearing God’s voice. If you can learn to clearly discern His voice speaking within you, you have found the font of intimacy—the heart of God speaking to you.

Just because they write something In this font And break apart their lines To rhyme To dramatize To imitate Doesn’t make what they say true. And quotations marks Don’t make sentences “life conclusions.” A post, a page, A billboard, or a wallpaper— Let it swirl for a few and if you want to spit it out, V omit. If you want to keep it, Let it ride shotgun. But argue with it first. Debate. Don’t simply accept it Because you may By accident Accept a monster Disguised As a poem.

I pen you words from my heart neither paper nor pen would do as I lay them out in flowery fonts what more could you ask for as I am writing in your heart the love that I want to endure I am no Keats nor am I anyone but me a poetess longing for your touch get lost with me in my words as I serenade you with a forever quill.

Just because they write something In this font And break apart their lines To rhyme To dramatize To imitate Doesn’t make what they say true. And quotations marks Don’t make sentences “life conclusions.” A post, a page, A billboard, or a wallpaper— Let it swirl for a few and if you want to spit it out, Vomit. If you want to keep it, Let it ride shotgun. But argue with it first. Debate. Don’t simply accept it Because you may By accident Accept a monster Disguised As a poem.

That evening, Hope wrote a letter to her MP, Jack Crow. She found no difficulty at all in composing it, but quite a bit in writing it. She hadn't hand-written an entire page since primary school. In the end she found an app on her glasses that sampled her handwriting and turned it into a font that looked like her handwriting would if it had been regular, and printed it off. There was even an app for the printer that indented the paper a little, and an ink that looked like ballpoint ink.

It is a revelation to compare the Don Quixote of Pierre Menard with that of Miguel de Cervantes. Cervantes, for example, wrote the following (Part I, Chapter IX): ...truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, depository of deeds, witness of the past, exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor. This catalog of attributes, written in the seventeenth century, and written by the "ingenious layman" Miguel de Cervantes, is mere rhetorical praise of history. Menard, on the other hand, writes: ...truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, depository of deeds, witness of the past, exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor. History, the mother of truth! - the idea is staggering. Menard, a contemporary of William James, defines history not as delving into reality but as the very font of reality. Historical truth, for Menard, is not "what happened"; it is what we believe happened. The final phrases - exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor - are brazenly pragmatic.

useful, or believe to be beautiful." Thus said the godfather of the Arts & Crafts movement, William Morris. Anyone who has ever spent time (hours, days, weeks, months) creating and (more importantly, refining) a graphic or physical form knows how difficult it can be. It takes practice and training, experience, and taste. A poor font, a button slightly off, the wrong material choice, a garish shade of color can ruin a perfectly fine design. Too many products are made as though aesthetic design decisions are items to be ordered off a Chinese menu. The CEO will say, "I'll take that font, that color, and that material." These arbitrary decisions, made without regard to the effect or the whole, can quickly make a product ugly. The real problem with ugly products is that they not only coarsen the world, they are (seemingly) more difficult to use. As Don Norman rightly pointed out, attractive things work better. "We now have evidence that pleasing things work better, are easier to learn, and produce a more harmonious result," he writes. Creating beautiful things, especially for products with seemingly

Petraeus’s acolytes arrived in Baghdad in February of 2007 armed with the holy writ: Field Manual 3-24, Counterinsurgency, came right from the font, written by the master and his team during the general’s interlude commanding the Army’s Combined Arms Center at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, from 2005 to 2007. Leavenworth writes doctrine, the Army’s how-to manuals. During his tenure on the Kansas prairie, David Petraeus ensured that his views on counterinsurgency were recorded. Now they would be applied.

Let's run amok. Let's make a mess. Taste a little chaos. Throw away the grid. Change the font. Spill the ink. Play the guitar with a missing string. Make art with cardboard boxes. Take a chance. Don't judge or question or filter it. Let it out. Make mistakes. Write with the wrong hand. Give it shot. Embrace imperfection. See what happens.

Writing is a form of art. Do not use New Times Roman or Arial because it's boring and hackneyed.

Our tastes are learned in the context of immense social influences, whether from our family, our friends, or the cheery font on a bottle of soda.

Life is monotonous if you don't allow for synchronicity. Through the years, I've learned that "chance" encounters aren't random. There are beautiful people and moments that can change your life if you let them. Synchronicity is the font with which God writes.

Jaylynn, she was so like me in every way; in her personality, in her actions, her laughter, and when I looked into her eyes it is all the same as if am looking into the eyes of a reflection of myself in my bloodstained mirror, from the eras of past, oh so long ago. I have never spoken about her to anyone until now; no one even knows about these stories, no one cares. Now that I am getting older, and getting closer to that casket, I feel that I should share my story with someone, so I decided on putting everything in my life down onto paper in my scrapbook diary, as you know! I have some of it on notepaper, yet I want to get it all on neat crisp paper with the black crisp font. Yet my early 1920’s vintage black Underwood Standard Typewriter No.5. It- the typewriter just smiles at me, because I start and stop one word at a time, plus the button letter ‘N’ has gone missing. Where it has gone is a mystery too, using a typewriter is not the way things work these days, everything is done digitally, with either video or recordings. Until now my dream was to write and complete my story! So, that is just okay with me. I am not a writer, there are not many out there anymore. I cannot even get a complete thought on a page… without jamming, or type-o's now, it pisses me off, but I will do it in time! I wonder how much more time I have to do this. There is nothing more annoying than that snowy old page, maybe there is, but I need to get this down somehow. This is all my misery, which cannot stop playing in my head that I need to let out. Furthermore, this is the only way I want to do it because they all said I never would. The paper is so old now, that it is yellow. The stack of paper is just like my cracked teeth; hell, the little bell does not even go ding anymore.

The saints of God have said and written many great and magnificent things. Yet all of these writings and teachings reach only to the extent that it can be granted to mere mortals to grasp the divine Word and its mysteries. In its own perfect and ultimate nature, it remains ever and wholly ineffable and incomprehensible. Every holy and inspired word proceeds from the illumination of this eternal Word. For this is the unique font and exemplar of all that is true, good, and holy. In it is all virtue, power, wisdom, and intelligence.

I do have an interest in dissidents. My mother believes 5G may harm us, and I think she’s silly. But what of the nonconformist who warned back in 1940 that cigarettes kill? What of the contrarian who said the CIA was spying on Martin Luther King, Jr.? I mean, I’ve seen no evidence that 5G or the Covid vaccines are harmful. But have I done that research myself? No. I just trust the media would tell me if they were. My media. Whatever media my mom is consuming, they’re quoting “research, studies.” They’re slinging medical articles and YouTube videos of doctors saying that mRNA vaccines kill. A month before our road trip, she sent me one of these videos. It’s a clip of a longer talk, but even the clip is twelve minutes long. “Something to consider,” she wrote in the subject line. “Doctor calls out deadly vaccine!” Twelve minutes is annoyingly long for something I instinctively discredit, but short enough to give it a go. So I do. It’s a doctor on a stage with a PowerPoint. He has studies and graphs and lists of ingredients in tiny fonts and words like “embryonic stem cells.” I write my mom a long response. “OK I’m six minutes in and here are my thoughts: he’s using a lot of technical science speak that is above my pay grade. And so, what I’m doing is I’m trusting the lingo of an expert.

I desire to write, be wildly in love, support my son to be who he is, keep my hair thick and shiny, get more tattoos, recite mantras, speak onstage, sleep in linen sheets, drive alone in the wide open spaces of New Mexico for hours, be flexible and productive, be alone at parties, be alone at home, be alone, be liked-loved-respected, keep a temple-tidy house, drive a reliable car, make millions of dollars and give lots away, meditate, get caught in thunderstorms, dance long and hard, wear cashmere, make things that make people want to make things of their own, sleep in, recycle, be One, seek approval, go to weddings (and funerals), order in, worship Rothko paintings, call my grandmother, free spiders, go back to India, stay up too late, get just the right font spacing, listen to Tibetan singing bowls on repeat for hours, watch three documentaries in a row, give all I have to give at any given moment to pretty much anybody, wear perfume every day of the week, shave my head, burn everything I’ve ever written, give insight, give money, give time, find my True Nature, and touch the face of God … Why do I desire what I desire? The answer is fast, clear, and simple: to feel good, of course.

The day when on the cover of my books, my name will appear in bigger font than the title of my book- I will stop writing because that would be the death of the writer in me.

We naturally focus all of our time and energy on the things we care about, the fun stuff: setting up the Facebook page, printing business cards, picking colors and fonts for our website, writing cute thank-you notes, choosing ribbon for packages, and decorating our space to be “just right.” We don’t think about the business side of things until we have questions like, Do I need a business license? What taxes do I owe? Do I need patents for my products? Should I form an LLC? Do I need a lawyer? And then we hit a wall. In my research, I’ve discovered that this wall is where women take one of two paths. Some women take Path One, where they decide they aren’t “business-minded” enough. They resolve to keep their hobby a hobby and let their business dream die. But other women take Path Two, where they decide to push through. They get answers to their questions and help with things they don’t understand. Instead of turning back, these women get over the wall and go on to reach their goals and grow their business.

You can also check my blog’s archive for a list of every post I have written or use the search function below my picture in the sidebar to find other posts that might be of interest. My Biography I have worked in the book publishing industry my entire career. I began at Word Publishing while a student at Baylor University. I worked at Word for a total of six years. In addition to serving as vice president of marketing at Thomas Nelson in the mid-80s, I also started my own publishing company, Wolgemuth & Hyatt, with my partner Robert Wolgemuth in 1986. Word eventually acquired our company in 1992. I was a successful literary agent from 1992 until early 1998. However, I really missed the world of corporate publishing. As a result, I rejoined Thomas Nelson in 1998. I have worked in a variety of roles in both divisional and corporate management. I was CEO from August 2005 to April 2011, when I was succeeded by Mark Schoenwald. Additionally I am the former chairman of the Evangelical Christian Publishers Association (2006–2010). I have also written four books, one of which landed on the New York Times best-sellers list, where it stayed for seven months. I am currently working on a new book for Thomas Nelson. It is called Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World (May 2012). I have been married to my wife, Gail (follow her on Twitter @GailHyatt), for thirty-three years. We have five daughters, four grandsons, and three granddaughters. We live outside Nashville, Tennessee. In my free time, I enjoy writing, reading, running, and golfing. I am a member of St. Ignatius Orthodox Church in Franklin, Tennessee, where I have served as a deacon for twenty-three years. My Contact Information You can contact me via e-mail or follow me on Twitter or Facebook. Please note: I do not personally review book proposals or recommend specific literary agents. Colophon My blog is built on WordPress 3.1 (self-hosted). My theme is a customized version of Standard Theme, a simple, easy-to-use WordPress theme. Milk Engine did the initial customization. StormyFrog did some additional work. I highly recommend both companies. In terms of design, the body text font is Georgia. The titles and subhead fonts are Trebuchet MS. Captions and a few other random text elements are Arial. Keely Scott took most of my personal photos. Laurel Pankratz also took some. I get most of the photos for my individual

which a drawing imported into a text document can no longer be altered, but must be changed in the original graphics program and reintroduced into the text document.) Out of the box the Star was multilingual, offering typefaces and keyboard configurations that could be implemented in the blink of an eye for writing in Russian, French, Spanish, and Swedish through the use of “virtual keyboards”—graphic representations of keyboards that appeared on screen to show the user where to find the unique characters in whatever language he or she was using. In 1982 an internal library of 6,000 Japanese kanji characters was added; eventually Star users were able to draft documents in almost every modern language, from Arabic and Bengali to Amharic and Cambodian. As the term implied, the user’s view of the screen resembled the surface of a desk. Thumbnail-sized icons representing documents were lined up on one side of the screen and those representing peripheral devices—printers, file servers, e-mail boxes—on the other. The display image could be infinitely personalized to be tidy or cluttered, obsessively organized or hopelessly confused, alphabetized or random, as dictated by the user’s personality and taste. The icons themselves had been painstakingly drafted and redrafted so they would be instantaneously recognized by the user as document pages (with a distinctive dog-eared upper right corner), file folders, in and out baskets, a clock, and a wastebasket. Thanks to the system’s object-oriented software, the Star’s user could launch any application simply by clicking on the pertinent icon; the machine automatically “knew” that a text document required it to launch a text editor or a drawing to launch a graphics program. No system has ever equaled the consistency of the Star’s set of generic commands, in which “move,” “copy,” and “delete” performed similar operations across the entire spectrum of software applications. The Star was the epitome of PARC’s user-friendly machine. No secretary had to learn about programming or code to use the machine, any more than she had to understand the servomechanism driving the dancing golf ball to type on an IBM Selectric typewriter. Changing a font, or a margin, or the space between typed lines in most cases required a keystroke or two or a couple of intuitive mouse clicks. The user understood what was happening entirely from watching the icons or documents move or change on the screen. This was no accident: “When everything in a computer system is visible on the screen,” wrote David Smith, a designer of the Star interface, “the display becomes reality. Objects and actions can be understood purely in terms of their effects on the display.