Stenographers Keyboard Quotes

This is what nibbling your ear sounds like." Blake created a soundtrack for his teeth.
"This is what looking into your eyes sounds like." The notes were deep and beckoning.
"This is what my mind hears when my tongue is in your mouth." The kiss sounded steamy and delicate. The rhythm was her heartbeat as he sampled her mouth.
"But when you smile. When you smile it's ... "
Blake scooted the keyboard around behind her. He needed both hands.
She put her hands on his face and smiled in amazement as the music exploded. She couldn't imagine how her simple facial gesture could inspire such a majestic sound.
He smiled back. "One thousand nine hundred and ten."
"So many? Really?"
"Yes, really. And it's not nearly enough. I want to lose count, Livia. Make me lose count." His hands left the beautiful music and grabbed handfuls of her hair. ~ Debra Anastasia

The doggy demolition began slowly. Clothes, hairbrushes, dishes, pens, wristwatch, toothbrush (yes, he'd reached it somehow) - anything I came in contact with became an object to chew, maul, consume. Toys, dog chews, or rawhides were scoffed at while he was alone; it had to be something of mine. He ate two remote controls, binoculars, a cherished baseball from high school, two belts, a computer mouse and keyboard, Ray-Ban sunglasses, and too many shoes to count. Even the shifter knob and window cranks in my Civic fell victim to Lou's teeth. Anything I handled eventually became dog food. ~ Steve Duno

At the end of the presentation someone asked whether he thought they should do some market research to see what customers wanted. "No," he replied, "because customers don't know what they want until we've shown them." Then he pulled out a device that was about the size of a desk diary. "Do you want to see something neat?" When he flipped it open, it turned out to be a mock-up of a computer that could fit on your lap, with a keyboard and screen hinged together like a notebook. "This is my dream of what we will be making in the mid-to late eighties," he said. They were building a company that would invent the future. ~ Walter Isaacson

Do Mom and Dad know you're dating a homicidal lunatic? (Madaug)
No, and if you tell them, I'll superglue your fingertips to your keyboard. (Eric) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

My daughter plays keyboard very well, and my son plays guitar, and they're totally into music. ~ Al Madrigal

Her keyboard. "There," she said eventually. "Bringing up real-time scan." The display changed to a zoomed-in view of the Animus penetration around the object, as several of the tendrils of the black fluid crept toward it. Creed's eyes widened as just a moment later he saw the Animus shrink away from the object. It was impossible to say whether it had been driven back or had recoiled voluntarily, but the reason was at least clear why this tiny part of Malpense's brain had remained free of Animus. Unfortunately, it left them no closer to understanding what the object was. That would require an invasive, ~ Mark Walden

At home I have a blue piano.
But I can't play a note.
It's been in the shadow of the cellar door
Ever since the world went rotten.
Four starry hands play harmonies,
The Woman in the Moon sang in her boat.
Now only rats dance to the clanks.
The keyboard is in bits.
I wept for what is blue. Is dead.
Sweet angels, I have eaten
Such bitter bread. Push open
The door of heaven. For me, for now-
Although I am still alive-
Although it is not allowed ~ Else Lasker Schuler

Baudelaire was far more than a great poet. He established the keyboard of a sensibility that still lives within us, if we are not total brutes. ~ Roberto Calasso

Today an applicant who couldn't pass the typing test blamed it on me for giving her a trick keyboard because the keys weren't in alphabetical order. ~ Jenny Lawson

I play trumpet. And I took all the music courses in college, so I can also play the string instruments, keyboard, the brass and woodwinds - but only well enough to teach them. If you put a violin in front of me, you wouldn't say, 'My God, that guy can play.' It'd probably sound more like Jack Benny. ~ Jon Tester

When the musical keyboard was created in the 1970's, you had electronic geeks that had no background in music created these devises and gave them to musicians that had no background in electronics. The result was some of the wierd sounds that came out in the '70s. ~ David Bowie

It has always been my ambition to die in harness with my head face down on a keyboard and my nose caught between two of the keys. ~ Isaac Asimov

I just started doing this one-man show, and I wanted to be able to score it, so I bought a guitar, and got a keyboard and got a harmonica. I remember when I started that I didn't understand why a harmonica had different letters on them. ~ Demetri Martin

On any given day, I'm likely to be working at home, hunched over this keyboard, typing Great Thoughts and Beautiful Sentences - or so they seem at the time, like those beautifully flecked and iridescent stones one finds at the seashore that gradually dry into dull gray pebbles. ~ Michael Dirda

And, again, this story needs to be revised, is under revision as I type these words. The only way to write an autobiography, I suppose, is to keep writing indefinitely. As soon as your fingers stop moving, this act - your fingers stalling on the keyboard - changes the story. There. I can't keep up. And this idea that it should all be working toward something, that the autobiographical subject in the present tense should be working through the biggest puzzle of her life and arriving somehow at... something. Something big. At what? Happiness? Understanding? Forgiveness? A baby? A book?

I have not arrived. ~ Jill Christman

I used to just sit in the living room and make up songs on the keyboard. ~ Fleur East

That's us," I said smiling brightly. "The Udells." That seemed to wake Roger up a little, and he blinked at me, surprised.
"Finally," the clerk muttered. "All right. Names?" he asked, fingers posed over his keyboard.
"Oh," I said, "Well. That's ... Edmund. And I'm Hillary." Roger glanced over at me, a little more sharply, and I tried to shrug as subtly as possible. ~ Morgan Matson

It's in the morning, for most of us. It's that time, those few seconds when we're coming out of sleep but we're not really awake yet. For those few seconds we're something more primitive than what we are about to become. We have just slept the sleep of our most distant ancestors, and something of them and their world still clings to us. For those few moments we are unformed, uncivilized. We are not the people we know as ourselves, but creatures more in tune with a tree than a keyboard. We are untitled, unnamed, natural, suspended between was and will be, the tadpole before the frog, the worm before the butterfly. We are for a few brief moments, anything and everything we could be. And then ... and then
ah
we open our eyes and the day is before us and ... we become ourselves. ~ Jerry Spinelli

See, the world is narrowing. We each live in a bubble of attitude. Everything tailored for us. No happenstance, only what I already am and know. At a certain point I find my shape is less here.' A palm flat on his chest.
'More out there.' Laying the palm on his keyboard. ~ Matthew Blakstad

I have an elaborate wind-down ritual, which combines reading, ESPN, movies, and jamming the blues on my keyboard. There's still a part of me that's a little kid who is psyched because I no longer have a bedtime! ~ Tohoru Masamune

Writing is an often-painful task that can feel like the death of one's past. Equally discomfiting is seeing one's present commitments to truths crumble once one begins to tap away at the keyboard or scar the page with ink. Writing demands a different sort of apprenticeship to ideas than does speaking. It beckons one to revisit over an extended, or at least delayed, period the same material and to revise what one thinks. Revision is reading again and again what one writes so that one can think again and again about what one wants to say and in turn determine if better and deeper things can be said. ~ Michael Eric Dyson

I don't even own a computer. I write by hand then I type it up on an old manual typewriter. But I cross out a lot - I'm not writing in stone tablets, it's just ink on paper. I don't feel comfortable without a pen or a pencil in my hand. I can't think with my fingers on the keyboard. Words are generated for me by gripping the pen, and pressing the point on the paper. ~ Paul Auster

Ponder and his fellow students watched Hex carefully.
'It can't just, you know, stop,' said Adrian 'Mad Drongo' Tumipseed.
'The ants are just standing still,' said Ponder. He sighed. 'All right, put the wretched thing back.'
Adrian carefully replaced the small fluffy teddy bear above Hex's keyboard. Things immediately began to whirr. The ants started to trot again. The mouse squeaked.
They'd tried this three times.
Ponder looked again at the single sentence Hex had written.
+++ Mine! Waaaah +++
'I don't actually think,' he said, gloomily, 'that I want to tell the Archchancellor that this machine stops working if we take its fluffy teddy bear away. I just don't think I want to live in that kind of world.'
'Er,' said Mad Drongo, 'you could always, you know, sort of say it needs to work with the FTB enabled...
'You think that's better?' said Ponder, reluctantly. It wasn't as if it was even a very realistic interpretation of a bear.
'You mean, better than "fluffy teddy bear"?'
Ponder nodded. 'It's better,' he said. ~ Terry Pratchett

People say I seem very negative about new music - well, if somebody asks me what I think of Keane, I'll tell 'em. I don't like 'em. I'll obviously take it a step too far and grossly insult the keyboard player's mam or summat, but I'm afraid that's just me. ~ Noel Gallagher

We don't have a lot of time to practice, but yeah, we need to find a keyboard over there, or else I need to bring one. We're intending to do so. I don't want to let you down and say that we 100% are, but yes, we're intending to do so. ~ Theresa Wayman

But how?" my students ask. "How do you actually do it?"
You sit down, I say. You try to sit down at approximately the same time every day. This is how you train your unconscious to kick in for you creatively. So you sit down at, say, nine every morning, or ten every night. You put a piece of paper in the typewriter, or you turn on the computer and bring up the right file, and then you stare at it for an hour or so. You begin rocking, just a little at first, and then like a huge autistic child. You look at the ceiling, and over at the clock, yawn, and stare at the paper again. Then, with your fingers poised on the keyboard, you squint at an image that is forming in your mind
a scene, a locale, a character, whatever
and you try to quiet your mind so you can hear what that landscape or character has to say above the other voices in your mind. ~ Anne Lamott

The telkine growled and muttered as he tapped on his keyboard. Maybe he was messaging his friends on uglyface.com ~ Rick Riordan

Her hands flew off the keyboard - she crouched as though she had been shot, saw yellow spots and then experienced a peaceful wave of oneness in which she entered pure communion. She was locked into the music, held there safely, entirely understood. Such was her innocence that she didn't know she was experiencing a sexual climax, but believed rather that what she felt was the natural outcome of this particular nocturne played to the utmost of her skills - and so it came to be. Chopin's spirit became her lover. His flats caressed her. His whole notes sank through her body like clear pebbles. His atmospheric trills were the flicker of a tongue. His pauses before the downward sweep of notes nearly drove her insane. The ~ Louise Erdrich

Many reporters, when they go to work in the nation's capital, begin thinking of themselves as participants in the political process instead of glorified stenographers. ~ P. J. O'Rourke

When Maurice touched a keyboard, it was like something from a movie, magical. He would always give you something from a movie, and you'd go, what did you just play ... immediately inspirational writings, amazing. That's what we're going to miss. ~ Robin Gibb

The keyboard is my whole life. My life is centered around either sitting at my keyboard or driving my car. Those are the two most important things, more than anything else. Being at my keyboard, it's the happiest time for me. ~ Brian Wilson

Usually now a song starts just in my head with a melody or a lyric idea coming first.Then typically I'll go to a guitar, unless it's a instrumental then I'll usually build it on a keyboard instrument. ~ Eliot Lewis

And then Julia's thinking about the internet and blogging; how everyone with a keyboard thinks they can just bang out articles no problem, never mind research or quality control. ~ Claire Hennessy

Choosing sides, the captain of the Red Team says, "We'll give you our best -pitcher. ... "
And we'll take the kid who picks his nose and eats it. And we'll take the kid who smells like piss. We'll take the leper and the left-handed Satanist and the HIV-infected hemophiliac and the hermaphrodite and the pedophile. We'll take drug addiction and we'll take JPEGs of the world instead of the world, MP3s instead of music, and we'll trade real life for sitting at a keyboard. We'll spot you happiness and we'll spot you humanity, and we'll sacrifice mercy just so long as you keep Cannibal at bay. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

He checked her face first to see if she was all right, then dropped his eyes to the keyboard. It was like someone had plugged him in. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he stretched his fingers.
"Will you play it, Blake? Will you?" Livia almost jumped with excitement.
Blake covered his smile. He nodded. Livia plopped the keyboard on the kitchen table, which was still moist from where he'd wiped it with the kitchen sponge.
Blake kissed her and then spoke solemnly. "I'll play it for you. ~ Debra Anastasia

I mean if I'm in the middle of a field with my keyboard and some headphones and I feel inspired to write something, I'll just write something really beautiful and mellow. ~ Vanessa Brown

So . . . how are we getting out of here? Do I still have to?"
"Yes. That thing over there"-he points as he unhooks my coat from the hanger-"is an elevator. You've been in it before. With me, in fact. I'll step you through the process."
"What if someone sees us?"
"You say that now? Lucinda, you're priceless."
I slap my keyboard to lock my computer, snatch my handbag and clatter after him. I try to tug my coat from his arm but he shakes his head and tuts. The elevator doors open and he tugs me in, his hand at my waist.
I turn to see Helene, leaning on her doorframe, her posture one of casual amusement. She then throws her head back and laughs in delight, clapping her hands together. He waves to Helene as the doors close. ~ Sally Thorne

It takes it out of you, writing with heart. And it was just for me really. Sort of a confirmation to myself that my inner diva can still make love to the keyboard when she's in the mood. I have to keep her roped and gagged when I'm writing for the newspapers. They don't like her at all. They don't want love. They want a quick tryst in a motel room that's forgotten in a few hours. ~ Colin Cotterill

Every day there are countless reasons why it's not a good day to write. Ignore those reasons and write anyway. Inspiration seldom visits a quiet keyboard. ~ John Burley