“How do you tell when you’re out of invisible ink?”

“When life gives you lemons you squeeze them, hard. Make invisible ink. Make an acid poison. Fling it in their eyes.”

“Poetry is written with tears, fiction with blood, and history with invisible ink.”

“When I tell people I went to library school, the most common reaction is either “You’re joking, right?” or “They have schools for librarians? Do they teach you how to properly sssh people?”

“How do you judge the brightness of a light when you’re the source? A spotlight can never see the shadows it casts.”

“The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible”

“They should tell you when you’re born: have a suitcase heart, be ready to travel.”

“If you do what you believe in, you’re strong. It’s when you don’t do what you believe in that you’re weak. And we are strong.”

“You’re supposed to be vetting, Iowa. You’re supposed to be culling out the crazies. You’re supposed to recognize the fraud of Ted Cruz and how Donald Trump is playing you. For all your touted small-town verities, you’re not doing your job. Your bull manure detector is broken.”

“Whenever you are asked if you can do a job, tell 'em, 'Certainly I can!' Then get busy and find out how to do it.”