Quotes About Fantasy

Yeah I loved, as a kid growing up, I loved science-fiction.

Good science fiction starts with a question "what if...?

To talk of diseases is a sort of Arabian Nights entertainment.

The aim here is not to separate fact from fantasy but to show how each embodies a distinct class of knowledge and how one is deeply implicated in the other.

Science fiction deals with improbable possibilities, fantasy with plausible impossibilities.

The Magical Negro rested his red cane on his shoulder and leisurely strolled into the forest to see if he could find him some hobbits, castles, dragons, princesses, and all that other shit.

Science fiction is when we see into the future of our planet, fantasy is when we believe humanity will survive.

I began to realize that I could go wherever and whenever I dreamed.

The strange paradox of science is that it does not explain reality, it explains our fantasy. It is a beautiful thing.

When strange objects shapes the landscape, we get fiction

Now, this was a combination that she wouldn't dare to dream of, even in her worst nightmare.

If the world explore all my dark fantasy, will change for the better".

You've never been to another planet, have you Aimee?""No, but I've been to Disney World.

Once it gets off the ground into space, all science fiction is fantasy.

The past is fantasy, and the future is science fiction.

When I was in my early to mid-teens, that was a very heavy diet of science fiction and fantasy, so those were the kinds of books I tended to imagine writing someday, or even began to try to write.

You can do anything when it's not real.

I have the same fantasy every time I read a book I love, no matter who wrote it, no matter when it was written. That the author has written his book only for me.

My partner and I are going to be run over by a rabbit driving a Citroën" just isn't the sort of thing that occurs to most people, no matter what kind of life they've led.

Just as starry-eyed Western intellectuals in the twentieth century would transfer to the Soviet Union all their own fantasies of the ideal state, so the idealists of late eighteenth-century Europe doted on the American Eden.

They can tell no one that they have gone through the looking glass and into the world where nightmares are real.

It was too cold to dream

But what I kept wondering about is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think? Before she knew it was candles, did she think she'd done it herself? With the amazing turns of her hips, and the warmth of the music inside her, did she believe, for even one glorious second, that her passion had arrived?

One could not spend one's life in the imaginings of another life.