Quotes About Imagination

There can be only one global village. These structures were the greatest business opportunities ever imagined—and only the innocence of faith could blind one to the possibility that they would fall into the hands of big firms.

We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.

Please — consider me a dream.

I can't feel a thing; All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.

I can't think of anything to write about, I'm just walking around here between the lines, under the light of your eyes, in the breadth of your mouth as in a beautiful happy day, which remains beautiful and happy, even when the head is sick and tired.

My doubts stand in a circle around every word, I see them before I see the word, but what then! I do not see the word at all, I invent it.

I ought to be able to invent words capable of blowing the odor of corpses in a direction other than straight into mine and the reader's face.

The purpose of a story is to be an axe that breaks up the ice within us.

those who are ignorant naturally consider everything possible.

I write to close my eyes.

Es perfectamente imaginable que el esplendor de la vida esté dispuesto, siempre en toda plenitud, alrededor de cada uno, pero cubierto de un velo, en las profundidades, invisible, muy lejos. Sin embargo está ahí, no hostil, no a disgusto, no sordo, viene si uno lo llama con la palabra correcta, por su nombre correcto. Es la esencia de la magia, que no crea, sino llama.

Nobody reaches through here, least of all with a message from one who is dead. You, however, sit at your window and dream of the message when evening comes.

Wrap your coat, O sublime dream, around the child.

En lugar de un saludo, yo te decía, rápidamente, movido por algo que veía en tu rostro Me imaginabas distinto. Tú respondías: Si te he de ser franca, te imaginaba más guapo

As I lie in bed I assume the shape of a big beetle, a stag beetle or a cockchafer, I think.

Kein Schlaf; nur Träume.

Rolar infinitamente, os olhos fechados oferecendo-se a não sei que olhar aberto.

This morning for the first time in a long while the pleasure again in imagining a knife twisted in my heart.

In Kafka's story Wedding Preparations in the Country, Edward Raban fantasizes about splitting into two forms: one, to remain in bed all day, dreaming; the other, to go forth and conduct the business of the world.

I do not see the world at all; I invent it.

It's only in dreams that I am so sinister.

The tremendous world I have in my head. But how free myself and free it without being torn to pieces. And a thousand times rather be torn to pieces than retain it in me or bury it.

The Hunter has been turned into a butterfly. Do not laugh.

When we write something, we have not coughed up the moon, whose origins might then be investigated. Rather, we have moved to the moon with everything we have. Nothing has changed; there, we are what we were here. A thousand differences are possible in the tempo of the voyage, none in the fact itself.