Quotes About Imagination

It's a wonderful thing, the D.T.'s. You can travel the world in a couple of hours. You see some mighty funny and curious things that come in assorted colors.

Wherever I am, if I've got a book with me, I have a place I can go and be h

If we knew how to use the power of our thoughts, we could travel the world in a second.

Every perfect traveller always creates the country where he travels.

Travel is ninety per cent anticipation and ten per cent recollection.

I got the chance to do things that I dreamed of when I was a kid: I got to travel around the world I had my own 'Goosebumps' attraction at Disney World I've been on TV and had three TV series.

Our brains are like bonsai trees, growing around our private versions of reality.

One will never again look at a birch tree, after the Robert Frost poem, in exactly the same way.

If poetry does not come as naturally as leaves to a tree, then it better not come at all.

I cannot understand why my arm is not a lilac tree.

Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?' 'Supposing it didn't,' said Pooh after careful thought. Piglet was comforted by this.

Philosophy: a purple bullfinch in a lilac tree.

What a pity every child couldn't learn to read under a willow tree.

You haven't seen a tree until you've seen its shadow from the sky.

I lived an idyllic 'Huckleberry Finn' life in a tiny town. Climbing trees. Tagging after brothers. Happy. Barefoot on my pony. It was 'To Kill a Mockingbird'-esque.

it would be lovely to sleep in a wild cherry-tree all white with bloom in the moonshine

I look out the window sometimes to seek the color of the shadows and the different greens in the trees, but when I get ready to paint I just close my eyes and imagine a scene.

Readers don't grow in trees. But they are grown-in places where they are fertilized with lots of print, and above all, read to daily.

I will be waiting by candlelight in our tree house of the mind.

The Boy with Nails in His Eyes put up his aluminum tree. It looked pretty strange because he couldn't really see.

Only in dreams of spring Shall I ever see again The flowering of my cherry trees.

As sunbeams stream through liberal space And nothing jostle or displace, So waved the pine-tree through my thought And fanned the dreams it never brought.

If I could live as a tree, as a river, as the moon, as the sun, as a star, as the earth, as a rock, I would. ...Writing permits me to experience life as any number of strange creations.

On pavements and the bark of trees I have found whole worlds.