Quotes About Imagination

instead of examiners, critics, knowers, and imaginative creators,...

Why, just lying there, Jim, you run so fast. I never saw anyone move so much, just sleeping.

Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine percent of them is in a book.

Faber sniffed the book. Do you know that books smell like nutmeg or some spice from a foreign land?

Space travel has again made children of us all.

Last night I've thought about all that kerosene I've used in the past 10 years, and I thought about books. And for the first time, I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper, and I'd never even thought that thought before. It took some man a lifetime maybe to put some of his thoughts down, looking around at the world and life. And then I come walking in and BOOM, it's all over.

?t ph?i có cái gì Ä'ó trong nh?ng cu?n sách, nh?ng th? ta không th? hình dung, nó khi?n cho ng??i Ä'àn bà ? l?i trong c?n nhà cháy, ph?i có cái gì ??y ? trong Ä'ó. Em ? l?i Ä'âu ph?i ch?ng vì má»™t cái gì.

The stories, the plays, were born in a yelping litter. I had but to get out of their way.

So much depends, of course, on what the individual hears when he gives himself over to the electronic tides breaking on the shore of his Seashell.

thing like this happen? I wish we'd brought Einstein with

Don't let the torrent of melancholy and drear philosophy drown our world.

When it is a long damp November in my soul, and I think too much and perceive too little, I know it is high time to get back to that boy with the tennis shoes, the high fevers, the multitudinous joys, and the terrible nightmares.

Tiene que haber algo en los libros, cosas que no podemos imaginar para hacer a una mujer permanecer en una casa que arde. Ahí tiene que haber algo. Uno no se sacrifica por nada.

my aunt Neva was the guardian and gardener of the metaphors that became me. She saw to it that I was fed all the best fairy tales, poetry, cinema, and theater, so that I was continually in a fever about life and eager to write it all down.

So I thought the best thing for me is a place so different that all you got to do is open your eyes and you're entertained.

Cuando no se puede tener la realidad, bastan los sueños.

Este libro tiene poros, tiene rasgos. Este libro puede colocarse bajo el microscopio. A través de la lente, encontraría vida, huellas del pasado en infinita profusión. Cuantos más poros, más detalles provenientes de la vida misma haya en cada centímetro cuadrado de papel, más literaria será la obra.

Day, after day, after glorious day, I was falling in love with books.....

Books are smart and brilliant and wise. Love what you do and do what you love. Don't listen to anyone else who tells you not to do it. You do what you want, what you love. Imagination should be the center of your life.

I tell you, mythology I think of as the homeland of the Muses, the inspirers of poetry. And to see life as a poem, and yourself participating in a poem, is what the myth does for you.

You can't have creativity unless you leave behind the bounded, the fixed, all the rules.

My task is to make you hear, to make you feel,and, above all, to make you see. That is all, and it is everything.

My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel — it is, before all, to make you see. That — and no more, and it is everything. If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm — all you demand; and, perhaps, also that glimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask.

He did not care what the end would be, and in his lucid moments overvalued his indifference. The danger, when not seen, has the imperfect vagueness of human thought. The fear grows shadowy; and Imagination, the enemy of men, the father of all terrors, unstimulated, sinks to rest in the dullness of exhausted emotion.