Paper Bleeds Little

Paper is an odd medium to convey emotions: it is flat and inanimate and lifeless--how can it be expected to truly make the reader feel as the author does?  Half of the work is lost in translation: this intermediary between the writer's lips and the reader's ear lacks the same purpose, the gesticulations, the intonation of the speaker.  The hardest part of writing is making others feel the way you do using only a keyboard (or a pencil back in the day).  To misquote (and probably misinterpret) an old proverb, I want to make the paper bleed: I want the emotions to be so real they soak through the pages.  Each piece I write is a horcrux of mine (though I don't have to kill someone to put my soul into it): it's my lifeblood flowing through the pages, making the words dance and writhe and live.  But it's hard to make the stationary move, and paper bleeds little.