Quotes About Imagination

All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.

There is a saying in the Neverland that,every time you breathe, a grown-up dies.

So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!

Do you believe in fairies?… If you believe, clap your hands!

If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!

If you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing.

When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.

You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.

I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!

You have to wait for your mind to catch up with whatever it is it's working on; then you can write a novel.

She was a little given to rehearsing things in her mind, and having imaginary triumphs over people who had upset her in one way and another.

Reading stories forces us to exercise our empathy and imagination muscles, and that helps us conceive what the Bible depicts or demands, helps us connect with others, helps us illustrate what the text teaches, and helps us apply the text's truths.

It had always seemed to her that what people thought of as possible only revealed the borders of their own fragment of eternity. Two hundred years earlier, flight had been unimaginable, germs were undreamed of, and doctors treated the sick by bleeding them, sometimes to death. For Hallie, the only certainty was that the world and their knowledge of it would keep changing, which made the thing denoted by the word "impossible" itself an impossibility.

When an artist captures a mountain or an ocean on a canvas with color and we wonder where such talent could come from, he or she is declaring His glory.

He sat the silver disk between Poocher's shoulder blades. The pig turned around in a circle, as if he were trying to see the disk on his back, which his fat neck wouldn't allow. After his third revolution, he closed his eyes and scrunched up his snout. His wings unfolded. He floated off the ground, looking smug. Everyone in the room knew there was something that needed to be said. But not even Hex, who'd never shown any fear of an obvious joke, dared say it.

Dead as a doornail, yet dreaming of Venice.

The masterpiece should appear as the flower to the painter—perfect in its bud as in its bloom—with no reason to explain its presence—no mission to fulfill—a joy to the artist, a delusion to the philanthropist—a puzzle to the botanist—an accident of sentiment and alliteration to the literary man.

An artist is not paid for his labor but for his vision.

We look at a painting to know the painter; it's his company we are after, not his skill.

I would say that fiction is something you write in spite of the research that you've done, not because the research you've done.

I knewThat life was fiction in disguise.

What we dream up must be lived down, I think.

And, as I have said, it's made me think twice about the imagination. If the spirits aren't external, how astonishing the mediums become! Victor Hugo said of his voices that they were like his own mental powers multiplied by five.

the great thing about literature is that you can imagine; the great thing about film is that you can't.