Lettering Fonts Quotes

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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.
H.G. Wells (The History of Mr. Polly)
Well, well -- the prizes all go to the women who 'play their cards well' -- but if they can only be won in that way, I would rather lose the game ... [C]lever [women] bide their time -- make themselves indispensable first, and then se font prier [=play hard to get]. Clever -- but I can't do it.
Dorothy L. Sayers (The Letters of Dorothy L. Sayers 1899-1936: The Making of a Detective Novelist)
I'm visualizing the letters that make up your name, but my brain has written it in Courier and the font size is too small and I feel irritated by it.
Chelsea Martin (Even Though I Don't Miss You)
The symbol “&” was a logogram—literally a picture representing a word. While many people assumed the symbol derived from the English word “and,” it actually derived from the Latin word et. The ampersand’s unusual design “&” was a typographical fusion of the letters E and T—the ligature still visible today in computer fonts like Trebuchet, whose ampersand “” clearly echoed its Latin origin.
Dan Brown (Origin (Robert Langdon, #5))
floor, surrounded by piles of feather-like receipts and a flock of black three-ring binders, wings spread wide, was a perfectly normal thing to see.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
A vida brota a partir de milhares de fontes vibrantes, entrega-se à todos que a agarram, recusa-se a ser expressa em frases tediosas, aceita apenas ações transparentes, palavras verdadeiras e o prazer do amor
Wilhelm Reich (Beyond Psychology: Letters and Journals 1934-1939)
Steve paid attention to every nuance of the slides, even details that, as far as I could tell, were invisible to the naked eye, like font kerning—which is adjusting the space between letters—and font smoothing to make sure the curves on each font were perfect. He hired a presentation professional, Wayne Goodrich, to help finalize these details and to make sure that at every single stop on the road show, all the pieces were in place to show the presentation and video perfectly.
Lawrence Levy (To Pixar and Beyond: My Unlikely Journey with Steve Jobs to Make Entertainment History)
Published as a book with a standard-size font, it would contain just four letters . . . AGCTTGCAGGGG . . . and so on, stretching, inscrutably, page upon page, for over 1.5 million pages—sixty-six times the size of the Encyclopaedia Britannica.
Siddhartha Mukherjee (The Gene: An Intimate History)
The origin of the ampersand was always one of the first things Langdon taught his symbology classes. The symbol “&” was a logogram—literally a picture representing a word. While many people assumed the symbol derived from the English word “and,” it actually derived from the Latin word et. The ampersand’s unusual design “&” was a typographical fusion of the letters E and T—the ligature still visible today in computer fonts like Trebuchet, whose ampersand “” clearly echoed its Latin origin.
Dan Brown (Origin (Robert Langdon, #5))
I know this about imagination: It needs a place to go. If I don't work at my cards and images and letterpress, if I don't touch the cut metal and carved wood fonts and imagine different patterns as I place letters next to others in a new way, my ideas will turn inward.
Patti Callahan Henry (The Stories We Tell)
The truly perfect pangram would contain all the letters of the alphabet in the right order, but the only thing that achieves that is the alphabet. There are phrases that use fewer characters, but they are not as catchy. And this is not for want of trying. Here are two of the shortest: 'Quick wafting zephyrs vex bold Jim.' 'Sphinx of black quartz judge my vow.
Simon Garfield (Just My Type: A Book About Fonts)
Alla fine, era questo il problema dell'amore. Era così facile romanticizzarlo perché era ovunque. Nella musica e in tv e nelle foto con i filtri di Instagram. Era nell'aria, fonte frizzante di possibilità infinite. Era nelle foglie autunnali, nelle porte di legno fatiscenti, nel ciottolato consumato e nei campi pieni di denti di leone. Era nello sfiorarsi di mani, nelle lettere scritte di getto, delle lenzuola stropicciate e nella luce dorata poco prima del tramonto. Uno sbadiglio soffice, una risata mattiniera, due paia di scarpe allineate accanto alla porta. Uno sguardo dall'altro lato della pista da ballo. Vedevo tutto questo, tutto il tempo, tutto intorno a me, ma quando mi avvicinavo restavo a mani vuote. Come un miraggio.
Alice Oseman (Loveless)
Uma obra de arte é boa quando surge de uma necessidade. É no modo como ela se origina que se encontra seu valor, não há nenhum outro critério. Por isso, prezado senhor, eu não saberia dar nenhum conselho senão este: voltar-se para si mesmo e sondar as profundezas de onde vem a sua vida; nessa fonte o senhor encontrará a resposta para a questão de saber se precisa criar. Aceite-a como ela for, sem interpretá-la. Talvez ela revele que o senhor é chamado a ser um artista.
Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet)
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.
Ken MacLeod (Intrusion)
And then the darkness gives way to white neon. An Art Deco font, burning into the night, announces our arrival at the CINEMA LE CHAMPO. The letters dwarf me. Cinema. Has there ever been a more beautiful word? My heart soars as we pass the colorful film posters and walk through the gleaming glass doors. The lobby is smaller than what I’m used to, and though it’s missing the tang of artificially buttered popcorn, there’s something in the air I recognize, something both musty and comforting.
Stephanie Perkins (Anna and the French Kiss (Anna and the French Kiss #1))
Hillary Clinton, who’d known about the book since I described it to her during my time working for her at the State Department, had agreed early and with enthusiasm. “Thank you, my friend, for your message; it is great hearing from you and I am delighted to know that you are close to completing your book project,” she wrote that July. The letter was printed on embossed stationery in a curly art deco font, like a New Yorker headline or a piece of set-dressing from BioShock. It was very lovely, and not the sort of thing that wins Wisconsin.
Ronan Farrow (Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators)
The Book of Man (in Twenty-Three Volumes) It has 3,088,286,401 letters of DNA (give or take a few). Published as a book with a standard-size font, it would contain just four letters...AGCTTGCAGGGG...and so on, stretching, inscrutably, page upon page, for over 1.5 million pages-sixty-six times the size of the Encyclopedia Britannica. It encodes about 20,687 genes in total-only 1,796 more than worms, 12,000 fewer than corn, and 25,000 fewer genes than rice or wheat. The difference between "human" and "breakfast cereal" is not a matter of gene numbers, but of the sophistication of gene networks. It is not what we have; it is how we use it.
Siddhartha Mukherjee (The Gene: An Intimate History)
SIWƎ┴ɹIČN∀ ʞOWƎpIſ∀ Wouᴉ-n pǝ qnlᴉ Zʌɐo sǝ uǝʞɐp lǝodɐɹp ƃɐžɐ qǝšǝ lɾᴉƃɐʌɐ slɐuᴉuɐ oʌuɐ ᴉ ʞɹʇᴉuɐ ƃɐzǝlǝ ɹɐp qᴉ zuɐo ʌɐšǝ ɯᴉšlɾǝuɾǝ ʞɐʞo ɯn ʞᴉčɯɐ osǝćɐšǝ zʌǝzpǝ ʞɹoz žᴉɔǝ znqᴉ ʞɹoz ʇnuǝl ƃlᴉsʇɐ˙ Nɐ lǝžɐɾn uoć n uoćᴉ sʇɹʌᴉuɐɹ zʌǝzpǝ sn qlǝsɐʞ nɯᴉuđnšǝuoƃ nɯɐ zʌǝzpǝ nqǝsʞɹɐɾǝuǝ lᴉɹsʞᴉ zʌǝzpǝ dop loƃɐɹᴉʇɯoɯ ɾnžuoƃ dolɐ lǝʇǝ šɐʞɐlsʞᴉ ɥǝʞsɐɯǝʇɹᴉ ɾɐɯqᴉ ǝlǝɟɐuʇɐ sɐʞsoɟousʞᴉ sᴉƃuɐl ɥᴉɾǝuǝ zɐ ɯǝsǝčǝʌǝ ɯɐuǝ n ʞnlᴉsɐɯɐ dop šɐʇoɹᴉɯɐ oɯɐɹǝ ɾɐ ʌɐs ʌolᴉɯ ʞɐo ɹᴉs ɹᴉsɐ )ɐq(uoɹɯɐluo˙ ∩ ɐɯɐlƃɐɯn čǝžuɾǝ čnluo n ʌǝʇɹoʌᴉʇᴉɯ ʌopɐɯɐ sǝuɐsʇǝ lᴉɹᴉʞǝ ʇɐʞo ʇᴉ ʞoqᴉ ʇᴉ ʇɐʞo¿ žǝlᴉ sǝ sɯɹʇ ɐʇᴉusʞoɯ ɹɐpošćn sʌǝʇloƃ ʞɹǝznqoƃ sᴉsɐučǝʇɐ ɹnƃoqoɯ ʇǝlɐsɐsʇᴉɥ čǝlɾnsʇᴉ ʞnʇuɾɐčʞᴉɯ ʌᴉlᴉɔɐɯɐ ɹɐʞᴉpžᴉsʞᴉɯ ƃlɐsuᴉɔɐɯɐ snlnupɐɹsʞᴉɯ sᴉlɐsʞoɯ ɔɹǝʌɐ oʞɐɹuᴉɐsʇᴉɯ žǝlnpɔǝɯ sdǝlnuʞoɯ pǝɾǝʞɔᴉɾǝ dlɐʌoɯ ʞɐo ʞɐdɹᴉ zqoƃ lᴉɹsʞǝ ʇǝzǝ ɐquoɹɯɐluǝ zʌǝzpǝ zqoƃ pžǝlɐʇɐ lɾᴉƃɐʌoƃ oʌuɐ ʞɹʇǝ ƃɐzǝlǝ ɹsʞɐʌǝ zʌǝzpǝ zpǝuɐsʇǝ lɐsʇǝ sʇǝƃunʇoƃ ƃunɐ ɐƃunsɐ pǝᴉ oɐʇɐuǝ
Vladan L.L. Kuzmanovich
Mas, além da injustiça do seu sistema, vêem-se bem todas as suas funestas consequências, a perturbação em todas as classes da sociedade, uma odiosa e insuportável servidão para todos os cidadãos, porta aberta a todas as invejas, a todos os descontentamentos, a todas as discórdias; o talento e a habilidade privados dos seus estímulos, e, como consequência necessária, as riquezas estancadas na sua fonte; enfim, em lugar dessa igualdade tão sonhada, a igualdade na nudez, na indigência e na miséria. Por tudo o que Nós acabamos de dizer, se compreende que a teoria socialista da propriedade colectiva deve absolutamente repudiar-se como prejudicial àqueles membros a que se quer socorrer, contrária aos direitos naturais dos indivíduos, como desnaturando as funções do Estado e perturbando a tranquilidade pública. Fique, pois, bem assente que o primeiro fundamento a estabelecer por todos aqueles que querem sinceramente o bem do povo é a inviolabilidade da propriedade particular.
Pope Leo XIII (Rerum Novarum: Encyclical Letter - Rights and Duties of Capital and Labour (Vatican Documents))
Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments, when people say 'Listen!' and 'Did you see it?' 'Did you hear it? What was it?' Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water. Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought, two thoughts, and a last interweaving thought there is not yet a number for. Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly the air. Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines of a doorknob with thumb-prints of dust, blood, dreams. Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun, hate, love, death. Poetry is the silence and speech between a wet struggling root of a flower and a sunlit blossom of that flower. Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night. Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes. Poetry is the establishment of a metaphorical link between white butterfly-wings and the scraps of torn-up love letters. Poetry is the achievement of the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Carl Sandburg (Selected Poems)
This region concentrates our learned knowledge of letter strings, to such an extent that it can be considered as our brain’s “letter box.” It is this brain area, for instance, that allows us to recognize a word regardless of its size, position, font, or cAsE, whether UPPERCASE or lowercase.39 In any literate person, this region, which is located in the same spot in all of us (give or take a few millimeters), serves a dual role: it first identifies a string of learned characters, and then, through its direct connections to language areas,40 it allows those characters to be quickly translated into sound and meaning. What would happen if we scanned an illiterate child or adult as she progressively learned to read? If the theory is correct, then we should literally see her visual cortex reorganize. The neuronal recycling theory predicts that reading should invade an area of the cortex normally devoted to a similar function and repurpose it to this novel task. In the case of reading, we expect a competition with the preexisting function of the visual cortex, which is to recognize all sorts of objects, bodies, faces, plants, and places.
Stanislas Dehaene (How We Learn: Why Brains Learn Better Than Any Machine . . . for Now)
La science moderne se présente dans le monde comme le principal ou le seul facteur de vérité ; selon ce style de certitude, connaître Charlemagne, c’est savoir combien a pesé son crâne et quelle a été sa taille. Au point de vue de la vérité totale — redisons-le une fois de plus — il vaut mille fois mieux croire que Dieu a créé le monde en six jours et que l’au-delà se situe sous le disque terrestre ou dans le ciel tournant, que de connaître la distance d’une nébuleuse à une autre tout en ignorant que les phénomènes ne font que manifester une Réalité transcendante qui nous détermine de toutes parts et qui donne à notre condition humaine tout son sens et tout son contenu ; aussi les grandes traditions, conscientes de ce qu’un savoir prométhéen mènerait à la perte de la vérité essentielle et salvatrice, n’ont-elles jamais prescrit ni encouragé cette accumulation de connaissances tout extérieures et, en fait, mortelles pour l’homme. On affirme couramment que telle ou telle prouesse scientifique « fait honneur au genre humain », et autres niaiseries de ce genre, comme si l’homme faisait honneur à sa nature autrement qu’en se dépassant, et comme s’il se dépassait ailleurs que dans la conscience d’absolu et dans la sainteté.
Frithjof Schuon (Light on the Ancient Worlds: A New Translation with Selected Letters (Library of Perennial Philosophy))
The letter was printed on embossed stationery in a curly art deco font, like a New Yorker headline or a piece of set-dressing from BioShock. It was very lovely, and not the sort of thing that wins Wisconsin.
Ronan Farrow (Catch and Kill: Lies, Spies, and a Conspiracy to Protect Predators)
The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn’t interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting. It wasn’t all romantic. I didn’t have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends’ rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the seven miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example: Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn’t have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can’t capture, and I found it fascinating. None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it’s likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later. Again, you can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something—your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life. The narrator of this story is Steve Jobs, the legendary CEO of Apple. The story was part of his famous Stanford commencement speech in 2005.[23] It’s a perfect illustration of how passion and purpose drive success, not the crossing of an imaginary finish line in the future. Forget the finish line. It doesn’t exist. Instead, look for passion and purpose directly in front of you. The dots will connect later, I promise—and so does Steve.
Jesse Tevelow (The Connection Algorithm: Take Risks, Defy the Status Quo, and Live Your Passions)
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.
Marcel Ray Duriez
look at the kerning. It’s too even.” “The what?” Bethany asks. “Kerning. The spacing between the individual letter forms,” Sandeep explains. “It’s a typography term.” Bethany rolls her eyes as she gets up and heads back to her desk. “You’re such a nerd.” “It’s not nerdy to care about fonts!” Sandeep calls after her. “Typography is an art form.
Karen M. McManus (One of Us Is Next (One of Us Is Lying, #2))
Nibiru, are you around here? Come." Sometimes, he envisioned spoken words in his head as though they were printed in the air and he saw this word - come - all lower case letters in size 9 font. No exclamation point, perhaps two of those wavy dashes on either side, signifying impotence. He was too ashamed to shout without company, nobody there to give him permission to disturb the night's peace, nobody to cushion the blow of odd glances if a person saw him and thought his actions peculiar.
Ani Baker (Handsome Vanilla)
Again the news crawl of Meg's words made its way across the designated space in his head. This time, size 14 font, white lettering on a black background, the first letter of each word capitalized: This Divide Between Us Is Made Up Of Things That You Haven't Done. The Problem I Have Is With The Things That You Don't Do.
Ani Baker (Handsome Vanilla)
Real handwriting is amazing and beautiful and can communicate sincerity and (sometimes) urgency. Handwriting fonts tend to do the opposite. They are clearly, ironically pretending to be something “real.” There are a few good handwriting fonts, but the tell is when each letter is exactly the same every time. That is never the case with real handwriting.
Bonnie Siegler (Dear Client: This Book Will Teach You How to Get What You Want from Creative People)
Once I was gone from the camera, the video faded into blackness and words appeared on the screen, letter by letter in a blood-red font. Whoops, wrong person. You missed. My chest tightened and my pulse thundered in my ears as that message faded and a new one appeared. I never miss. Understanding flashed across my mind in a split second as the red light appeared again, but this time in the middle of Steele's chest. It was a dot. A red dot... like a laser sight might make.
Tate James (Fake (Madison Kate, #3))
It might as well have TRAP written all over it in a font named Trap. Made of little traps. Bear traps for the curvy parts of the letters, and rat traps for… anyway,” he finished, “definitely a trap.
Mike Reeves-McMillan (Auckland Allies 5: Memorial Museum)
the editors had prepared almost nothing for the unthinkable, a Trump win. Instead, a special section devoted to the election of the first woman president was ready to go. The previous Sunday the editors had downplayed a piece by Nate Cohn saying that there was an actual path to a Trump victory. Baquet had already approved a historic front page for the morning after the election with a banner headline with letters in a huge font: “Madam President.
Jill Abramson (Merchants of Truth: The Business of News and the Fight for Facts)
Letterpress was a dying art, another casualty of the digital age. The bank sent her threatening letters run off on cheap paper and laser-printed in Helvetica, the font she despised the most, because it was sans serif, overused, and, to her, it heralded the reign of the impersonal.
Karen Doornebos (Definitely Not Mr. Darcy)
far-off sirens echoing through concrete canyons,
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
With the font, I made every decision: not a lawyer, not an engineer. My opinion was the only one that mattered.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
for the day, I was happy to let World War II retreat into history. Every new thing I learned pulled me deeper into an abyss of hate and horror. Spending
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
the weekend free from visions of labor camps was what I needed.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
You need to start reading chick lit like a normal girl.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
It only took thirty minutes to get there in light midday traffic. Plus I sped.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
The wedding portrait and the photo from 1991 were like bookends of a life.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
As I drove past vast seas of soybeans and corn growing under the hot August sun,
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
so the inside pockets don’t exist and the buttons have gone on leave.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
This was not a family tree. This was an entire forest.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
The 130,000 women who cycled through Ravensbrück represented every country Germany occupied.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
those trips were driven by a yearning to be surrounded by simplicity and nostalgia.
Carolyn Porter (Marcel's Letters: A Font and the Search for One Man's Fate)
The lettering is clean, beautifully proportioned, easily read, and, well, ordered.
Simon Garfield (Just My Type: A Book About Fonts)