Quotes About Imagination

High characters (cries one), and he would seeThings that ne'er were, nor are, nor ne'er will be.

Repeating instructions is a practical technique, but everything Michelangelo writes has this quality of pouring out his desires in the order they occur to him.

What we keep finding out again and again is that recipe cooking is to real cooking as painting by number is to real painting: just pretend. The problem is that we don't seem to be able to grasp it. We keep trying—with a different cookbook.

Poetry is the practice of creating artworks with language. Sculptors use marble, steel, cardboard, pâté, whatever material they choose. Musicians use sound. Painters use paint. Furniture-makers use woods and fabrics. And poets use language.

wonder possible.

I want to write books that unlock the traffic jam in everybody's head.

Each morning my characters greet me with misty faces willing, though chilled, to muster for another day's progress through the dazzling quicksand the marsh of blank paper.

I want to write books that unlock the traffic jam in everybody's head.

The artist brings something into the world that didn't exist before, and he does it without destroying something else.

This story is going to take you on a very curvy path, leading you step by step into ideas, theories, worlds and counter worlds that will seem wholly false, and yet… Deep down in the depth of your mind, no matter how crazy and off the wall it all seems on the surface, there will still be a ring of truth in it. Your adventure begins now!

a good story was frequently superior to the truth?

Maybe I'm crazy," she said, "but I wonder if this is where the thing that ate us gets its water?" "Could be. I'm not diving in to find out.

If you can pretend well enough to fool someone else, you might even fool yourself.

You have to remember that it is impossible to commit a crime while reading a book.

Creative minds are rarely tidy.

He thought, in fine, that the dreams of poets were the realities of life.

he soon formed this object into the hero of a romance, and determined to observe the offspring of his fancy, rather than the person before him.

SIR,—Although I sent the following narrative to an Edinburgh newspaper, with the editor of which I was well acquainted; yet he refused to give it publicity, on the ground that it was only a dream of the imagination: but if a man cannot be believed in what he hears and sees, what is he to be believed in?

it led his eyes outward and upward into the sky, where he looked as if toward a possibility for which he had no name.

You are the dreamer, the madman in a madder world, our own midwestern Don Quixote without his Sancho, gamboling under the blue sky.

its flatness, and its yellow-greenness, its high walls of mountain wooded with the deep green of pine in which ran the flaming red-gold of turning aspen, its jutting rock and hillock, all roofed with the intense blue of the airless sky—it seemed to him that the contours of the place flowed beneath his eyes, that his very gaze shaped what he saw, and in turn gave his own existence form and place.

The True, the Good, the Beautiful. "[...] They're just around the corner, in the next corridor; they're in the next book, the one you haven't read, or in the next stack, the one you haven't got to. But you'll get to it someday. And when you do--when you do--

The True, the Good, the Beautiful. They're just around the corner, in the next corridor; they're in the next book, the one you haven't read, or in the next stack, the one you haven't got to. But you'll get to it someday. And when you do--when you do--

When I was quite small I would sometimes dream of a city - which was strange, because it began before I even knew what a city was.