Quotes About Imagination

la idea de anunciar la poesía de Shakespeare mil años antes de su nacimiento carece de sentido. Pues el autor podía no haber nacido, haber fallecido en la infancia, haber vivido de otra manera y, por tanto, escribir de otra forma; sin embargo, el habla inglesa preveía la existencia misma de la poesía inglesa.

Sì, esistono in me pensieri, intenzioni, speranze tremende, fantastiche, micidiali, e non ne so nulla. L'uomo si è mosso per andare alla scoperta di altri mondi, di altre civiltà, senza avere perlustrato a fondo, dentro di sé, i cortiletti, i camini, i pozzi, le porte sbarrate.

I will put it in another way: if a creation were to take place—which personally I cannot conceive—then the level of knowledge that it would require would be of such an order that there would be no place in it for silly jokes.

among others—the Oofs (not the "Oops," as the text gives)

I was Mowgli, of course, and Winnetou, and Captain Nemo.

There I could look at heads cut open in various ways, innumerable ways, the whole machinery drawn and colored with the utmost precision. I especially loved the pictures of brains, whose different coils were distinguished by every color of the rainbow. Many years later, when in an anatomy lab I saw a real brain for the first time, I was surprised (though of course I knew better) that it was so drab a thing.

Ksi??k? mo?na czytelnikowi g?ow?, owszem przemeblowa? o tyle, o ile jakie? meble ju? w niej przed lektur? sta?y.

We are only seeking Man. We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is. We are searching for an ideal image of our own world: we go in quest of a planet, of a civilization superior to our own but developed on the basis of a prototype of our primeval past.

Eden grew smaller. Beautiful, said the Captain. But, you know, going by the probability curve, there must be others even more beautiful.

Why hire a lawyer? I'll make myself one! And Trurl went home, threw six heaping teaspoons of transistors into a big pot, added again as many condensers and resistors, poured electrolyte over it, stirred well and covered tightly with a lid, then went to bed, and in three days the mixture had organized itself into a first-rate lawyer.

Lo que fue y pasó, no existe y es como si jamás hubiera existido, al igual que un pastel que te comiste ayer ya no te sirve para nada. Por eso, si uno logra creer en ello, uno podría inventarse un pasado que no tuvo y sería como si lo hubiera vivido de verdad».

We're not searching for anything except people. We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is.

Es kann keinen Flug geben ohne vorangegangene Träume vom Fliegen.

With the demise of imagination I inherited its residue, a kind of permanent disagreement with reality, more like an anger, though, than a rejection. My laughter had already been a denial, and a more effective kind, perhaps, than suicide.

Science fiction involves the art of putting hypothetical premises into the very complicated stream of sociopsychological occurrences.

This is another lie. We are only seeking Man. We have no need of other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is. We are searching for an ideal image of our own world: we go in quest of a planet, a civilization superior to our own but developed on the basis of a prototype of our primeval past.

We are only seeking Man. We have no need for other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can't accept it for what it is. We are searching for an ideal image of our own world: we go in quest of a planet, of a civilization superior of our own but developed on the basis of a prototype of our primeval past. -Snow from Solaris by Stanislaw Lem

We know, but cannot grasp, that above and below, beyond the limits of perception or imagination, thousands of millions of simultaneous transformations are at work, interlinked like a musical score by mathematical counterpoint...a symphony...but we lack the ears to hear it.

Not far from here, by a white sun, behind a green star, lived the Steelypips, illustrious, industrious, and they hadn't a care: no spats in their vats, no rules, no schools, no gloom, no evil influence of the moon, no trouble from matter or antimatter - for they had a machine, a dream of a machine, with springs and gears and perfect in every respect.

His image is poemagogic: It both symbolizes and sparks the creative process, which is itself a Quest.

We need images that move us beyond language, law, and custom; that hurl us beyond the boundaries of our lives to the space between worlds, where we can see clear.

Dream. You have permission to dream. And besides, if you don't have a dream, how can you have a dream come true?

At the time no one really knew for sure that John Cropsey was more than the stuff of campfire stories. Not the townspeople, who saw their businesses wither and die with the bad publicity he brought. Not even the survivors of of his onslaught against Camp Beechwood. The only people who were certain that Cropsey was more than just the figment of a vivid imagination were the ones who would never share their secret knowledge: his victems.

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