I enjoy the freedom of the blank page.

I live for the blank page.

The answer scrawled on a blank page in a daily newspaper, was conceived whilst aboard a ferry.

The writer presents himself to the blank page not with an open passport but an open heart.

As a writer, a blank page will humble the hell out of you. It always does, and it always will.

He could be so cynical. So dry and acidic. As blank as a page. Could he be tender, too?