Quotes About Imagination

There's a moment in every book when the story and characters are finally there; they come to life, they're in control. They do things they're not supposed to do and become people they weren't meant to be. When I reach that place, it's magic. It's a kind of rapture.

For the rest of the night, all I could think about was how many heads had lain on those pillows before my own.

She blamed the lack of real flowers on both weather and the war, and instead put four or five pieces of coal in glass bowls, added water, salt, and ammonia, before finally pouring a mixture of violet and blue ink over them. It was a complete mystery to me how this alchemy would result in anything resembling flowers, but they were "blooming" within the hour.

I usually know what the crisis of the book is going to be, though I don't know how I'm going to get there. I try to make it bad enough that I don't know how I'm going to get out of it. And when I get there, I have to get out of it. I just get myself geared up, and I write every day and see what happens.

Reading's ability to beam you up to a different world is a good part of the reason why people like me do it in the first place---because dollar for dollar, hour per hour, it's the most expedient way to get from our proscribed little here to an imagined, intriguing there. Part time machine, part Concorde, part ejector seat, books are our salvation.

Why bother with other people's worlds made of words? was his philosophy.

Its more fun to think of the future than dwell on the past.

Imagine that it's sugar, Korbyn said. 'You're riding across candy.' Salt can never be sugar, Fennik said. We should talk about the definition of the word 'imagine'.

Impressive vocabulary, Korbyn said. I feel as though I should take notes. I think she's making them up, Liyana said. Half of them are not anatomically possible.

I'm allowed to have new dreams.

She wanted to go in, to be swallowed up in the magic mist at the end of the hall. Inhaling deeply, she smelled the sweet perfume of enchanted men and women, and imagined what it was like to be Gwen Mann.

So maybe it wasn't the fairy tale. But those stories weren't real anyway. Mine were.

It's still a memory worth having, even if it's not exactly what you imagined.

I knew this feeling, the 2 a.m. loneliness that I'd practically invented.

When I pictured myself, it was always like just an outline in a colouring book, with the inside not yet completed.

Why does she have wings?' So she can fly.

See you in dreamland

But what he didn't understand was that this dreamland was preferable,walking through this life half-sleeping,everything at arm's length or farther away. I understood those mermaids.I didn't care if they sang to me.All I wanted was to block out all the human voices as they called me name again and again,pulling me upward into light,to drown.

Can she be divorced? I asked. And famous for her commercials and ideas? She can be anything, Boo told me, and this is what I remember most, her freckled face so solemn, as if she knew she was the first to tell me. And so can you.

As I rolled over, stretching out, my only thought was to go back to the dream I'd been having, which I couldn't remember, other than that it had been good, in that distant, hopeful way unreal things can be.

And all that pink. It's like a giant vagina in there

It's still a memory worth having, even if it's not exactly what you imagined

What you do in your dreams is never your choice. But it made me happy anyway.

It was great. Freedom even the imagined kind always is.