If you do big things they print your face, and if you do little things they only print your thumbs.
Related quotes
If you do big things they print your face, and if you do little things they print only your thumbs.
quote by Arthur Baer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
One of the reasons I started Tzadik, which is my own label, is to keep things in print. I got tired of labels dropping things out of print when they don't sell.
Thought Print, Life Print
from time print
comes thought print
and from there life print
and from there
every person's
chance to relive
a million times
easy as the sun rises
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I've Given In Print
I've given in print,
My sentiments...
On several levels of thought.
I've explained, complained...
And attempted to refrain,
From political or religious...
Ideologies,
I either witnessed...
Or have been taught!
And through the years I've learned,
To myself be true.
No matter what it was,
Others believed I should or could do.
And I do have a hint,
To leave in print...
For anyone feeling,
Similar sentiments.
Be true to 'you'.
It's not easy to do.
However,
With a faith kept that is trusted...
With an honest decision to 'self' that is made,
There will be peaks and valleys lived to experience.
But eventually there is a happiness that comes,
With an acknowledgement that no one is owed...
For those things you've done.
Many can say this.
But to feel inside what is true for you,
That has been done in the doing...
Is a blessing felt no matter who scutinizes it.
And I've been fortunate to mention it in print.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The big print giveth, and the fine print taketh away.
quote by Fulton J. Sheen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The big print giveth and the small print taketh away.
Not Wanting To Forget
The Modigliani print was on the wall
By the front door. Who’s she? Bridshaw’s
Dame asked, pointing at the print.
It’s a painting by Modigliani, Bridshaw said.
Is he a friend of yours? The dame asked.
Bridshaw pulled a face and said, No, he’s
Dead now. Shame, she replied, stroking
The print, her finger tracing the woman’s
Outline, her tongue hanging out of the side
Of her mouth in concentration. She’s a bit
On the thin side, the dame said, and I don’t
Like the black coat she’s wearing, like some
Darn widow. Bridshaw wanted to get the dame
In bed for sex; the Modigliani print was no
Big deal, he’d bought it in some art shop on
The high street from the guy with the Boston
Tones. Shame he’s dead, the dame said, he
Could have painted me; I would have made
A good model, more meat on me than that
Woman in black, thin as a pole. Bridshaw
Nodded his head, Sure, sure, but you’re too
Late, the guy’s dead, now can we move on,
Get a drink, hit the bed, have sex, and then
A cigarette. Sure, the dame said, moving away
From the Modigliani print, taking the image
Of the woman with her, not wanting to forget.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ugo Print
On Lake Avenue, there is a business owner named Que.
He owns Ugo Print and he has a great crew.
His crew develops, creates and makes a new
your brochures, business cards and letterhead too.
Ugo Print took my artwork and enlarged it for a fair price,
better then Fed Ex, and staff is really nice.
Business cards of mine where printed with a great format,
Ugo Print made it great I can vouch for that.
Embroidery and screen printing Ugo does as well,
they are a full range printing company that does sell,
sell direct mail that makes your business boom,
print with Que who is exceptional and his employees too.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 8,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.christinasunrise.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Vote
A single vote may be your victory………..
my vote create the world i live.......a vote that brings my
future near to the distance i see
my vote holds me to achieve..... a reality of my dream to
Conquer, grasp according to my wish
my vote change the chaos i encounter.......a life saving
design of what will be tomorrow of my destiny
my vote wonder every breathe.......a victory to where to
go, beyond uncertain pathways
my vote remember my aspiration.....a longing of joy and
happiness, wonting to know of peace
my vote brings my life......a remembrance of my life of
today, a parting print of my thumbs forever
…..please let my vote be seen, touch and listen for the
wings of the ink, has whisper the truth of what will be
the beginning of history, made this print easy to
count my vote in you is you’re……. victory
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time out of Mind
Losing ping of my mind,
i can't print my future.
Days glistened frustrating me,
on high hopes could not reach,
Sunshine blinks on innocent face,
I who responsible for his future
I try to rescue myself and tired,
if i am to be a sailor,
Sometimes silence and darkness makes thunder,
timed out! timed out! timed out!
So i can't print my future.
-Shaleheen
poem by Musfiq us Shaleheen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Modesty is reserved
That painting lures me to buy.
I can’t. It would rob my wealth.
Its duplicate costs me one tenth.
Even that I prefer to let go.
I settled with its photo print
For paltry sum I grow not poor by.
Woman bends just to flirt
Like one buying a photo print
13.05.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In 1986 we were trying to help women get in print, stay in print, and come to the attention of booksellers and libraries. At that time, books by men mystery writers were reviewed seven times as often as books by women.
quote by Sara Paretsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Don't Shut Us Out
We do not print poetry
The newspaper said
So I burned that paper
Instead
They write about rape, murders and theft
From day to day politics
To the little good will, man does
Are we in a curse
How dare they not print
Our verse
We shall and forever be
A very, very poetic
Society
In our mind, body and soul
So run your papers
Run them in black
Sell them in your box
I'll keep my fifty cents
I'm not coming back
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Between Drags
Between drags
on the cigarette
she muses on
the Rothko print
on Scalpon’s wall.
It took her by surprise
hanging there
beside the front door
almost from ceiling to floor.
The smoke touches her throat
fills her lungs.
Satisfaction sits
on her tongue
like Scalpon easing himself
between her thighs.
The Rothko print
fed her eyes and mind.
She exhales and thinks on
Scalpon’s secondary sex
and watches the smoke rise
as once from the chimneys
of those camps of which
Grandmother often spoke.
She inhales again
picturing in her mind’s eye
the Rothko print
trying to forget Scalpon’s
weird way of making love
upon the table
in the hall
while she studied
the Rothko
hanging on the wall.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gazing At Sunflowers
Your first wife’s friend
came in with her
for a coffee and chat
and you were sitting
on the sofa
with the sleeping cat
and she looked
at the Van Gogh print
of sunflowers
over the mantelpiece
above the open fire
did you paint that?
the friend asked
staring at it
through John Lennon
type glasses
no you said
it’s a Van Gogh print
oh she said
peering closer
I do like flowers don’t you?
Yeah you replied
sunflowers have a way
when Van Gogh
pushes them through
and she stood in silence
taking in the print
and flowers
and colours
and you noticed
she had a run
in her stockings
from the back
of her knee
to where
her thigh disappeared
beneath her drab dress
and your first wife
came in and said
oh you’re not looking
at that painting are you?
He knows all about
those arty types
with their odd ways
and weird eyes
and her friend said
turning round
scratching her ass
I know nothing
of art and such
it’s way out
of my class.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Smallest Things
the small print
of a cat's paw on
your trembling lips,
stopped the tears,
and the roar of hunger
in the tiny bud opening.
the tongue that gropes
for a dropp of rain...
seed wrapped in dirt,
that sunlight,
and turning set free.
the smallest things,
bring form to shadow.
it is in the smallest things
that we find the immortal!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There are some things the general public does not need to know and shouldn't. I believe democracy flourishes when the government can take legitimate steps to keep its secrets, and when the press can decide whether to print what it knows.
quote by Katherine Graham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
We photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing, and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth can make them come back again. We cannot develop and print a memory.
quote by Henri Cartier-Bresson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
With a face like mine, I do better in print.
quote by Jerry Springer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Judy and You and Chagall
What did you think
of the Chagall postcard print
I bought you?
Judy asked as you both sat
outside the Fox Inn
I pinned it on my wall
you replied
and stared at it every time
I entered the room
thinking of you
she sipped her drink
her eyes searching you
her hair tied behind
in a ponytail
so I gathered
by your letters
she said
putting her glass
on the small wooden table
I missed you
you said
I went to London
while you were away
and saw you
in every girl I saw
even at the ballet
at the opera house
she looked at her glass
I was only away for a week
she said
it seemed a year
you said
you inhaled the cigarette
you were holding
taking in her hair
and eyes and how
her lips moved
as she spoke
Florence was fantastic
she said
I picked out
that Chagall print for you
in one of the art galleries
who did you go with?
you asked
friends
she replied
male or female?
both
she said
you inhaled the cigarette again
and thought of the first time
you kissed her
how the moonlight
shone on her face
as you moved her around
you mustn't be so jealous
she said
I have to see others
who was the guy?
Henrik
she said
you imagined her
and this Henrik
making out
in some Florence hotel
his hands touching her
I thought of you
every moment
you said
that's sad
she said
why?
you said
because no one
should think of another
that often
she sipped her drink
and looked around
at the evening sky
how was Florence?
beautiful
she said
like you
you said
I am like Shakespeare's' lily
she said
as it withers
she added
I see
you said
and you studied
her hands as they lifted
the glass to her lips
the fingers
the skin
the way they held
the glass
did you read my letters
when you got home?
you asked
yes
she said
every single one
my mother said
I must have besotted
some poor soul
and you thought
of the Chagall print
and how you had sniffed it
for traces of her scent
and remembered
your mother's words
nothing is given forever
things in this world
are only lent.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!