Quotes About Imagination

Te lo puedes imaginar, esta espléndida situación doméstica, el padre vampiro que canta a su hija vampiro? Únicamente la muñeca tenía un rostro humano, únicamente la muñeca.

Poetry belongs to everyone.

Let my stories do what stories always do. Let them keep you from your darker dreams and from your darker journey. Let them keep you here.

Twist the poetry as you will.

No, but one can feel desperate at any age, don't you think? The young are eternally desperate," he said frankly. "And books, they offer one hope—that a whole universe might open up from between the covers

Can you picture it?' she said so softly I scarcely heard. 'A coven of children? That is all I could provide…

I had become a magician for them, aiding them to realize accomplishments of which they hadn't even dreamt.

I thought in my secret heart of Botticelli, the man himself standing in his studio staring at me, wondering helplessly what sort of patron I was, and never dreaming that my hunger and adoration were conmingled, never dreaming of a danger which had come so close.

But before we cut to Present Time, let me have my little fantasy. I need it (Chapter 1).

I never found another like him, with so much passion and so many happy delusions, but then I never much looked.

what is the experience of sex if you have never had it.

It was you, Master, who let me see what little I could of the marvelous bright world unfolding around me in ways I couldn't have imagined in the land or time in which I was born.

And books, they offer one hope - that the whole universe might open up from between the covers, and falling into that universe, one is saved.

I didn't stand and take stock of what I meant to do. Rather I went at it fiercely, covering the wall in great glowing patches, making the usual garden which obsessed me, and the nymphs and goddesses whose forms were so familiar to my mind.

These creatures had no names for me. They might have come from any verse in Ovid, or from the writing of Lucretius, or indeed from the blind poet, Homer. It was no matter to me. I lost myself in depicting uplifted arms and graceful throats, in painting oval faces and garments blowing gently in the breeze.

Y nuestro cerebro da color a la lluvia. Y el trueno es como algo que recuerda algo. Stan Rice.

What a sight I was in these big clothes. I must have looked like a mad poetical schoolboy who had raided thrift stores for the finest threads and was off now in fancy new shoes to search out the rock bands.

They may be dreams of the feverish mind. They may be phantoms wrapped in the garments of memory.

child, have invented such a vision? Maybe we do go home, finally.

Sueño los sueños de los jóvenes ?confesó?, o sea que siempre sueño con ser mayor, más rico, más sensato, más fuerte. Solté una risita.

La poesía debería tomarse en pequeñas dosis. Nadie necesita poesía. Nadie necesita obligarse a leerla.

Would that it were true, would that all the poems and paintings of the world were but a mirror of such hopeful splendor.

Stories of romance and adventure and magic helped us to imagine a better world into being, however gradually. In the telling of every fairy tale, the listener and the teller took another step towards nobility.

to sputter and giggle—Baby too. "I followed my piss!" I said between hiccupping laughter. "She followed her piss and her dreams came true!" Rachel screamed. "Follow your piss, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Barbara intoned.