In the realm of paper and ink, It helps thoughts soar, not sink. Neon hues, Won't confuse, Makes vital lines glow in a blink.

I am a tool used to row, but I sound like a choice between two. I help you move through the water, but I am not a motor. What am I?

Elsa really wants to build me. And Sven likes my nose a bit to much.

I function as a container, woven with straw, wire, plastic or thin wood. But in some cases, I don't function well at all.

Sharp needles penetrate every fiber of my being, until I am no more.