Quotes About Imagination

There I went again, building p a glamorous picture of a man who would love me passionately the minute he met me, and all out of a few posy nothings.

Being mythological does wonders for one's ego.

If a poem is concentrated, a closed fist, then a novel is relaxed and expansive, an open hand: it has roads, detours, destinations; a heart line, a head line; morals and money come into it. Where the fist excludes and stuns, the open hand can touch and encompass a great deal in its travels.

And now you try Your handful of notes; The clear vowels rise like balloons.

You must create the right kind of dream, the sober, adult kind of magic: illusion born from disillusion.

Whenever I thought about men and men, and women and women, I could never really imagine what they would actually be doing.

The poet made eating salad with your fingers seem to be the only natural and sensible thing to do.

I fixed my eyes on the largest cloud, as if, when it passed out of sight, I might have the good luck to pass with it.

And by the way, everything in life is writeable if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The greatest threat to creativity is self-doubt.

In the heart of the forest, your image follows me

You are a dream. I hope I never meet you.

The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers--goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like, being bummed alive all along your nerves.

Write about the cow, Mrs. Spaulding's heavy eyelids, the smell of vanilla flavoring in a brown bottle. That's where the magic mountains begin.

wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig tree. It

Mr. Manzi stood at the bottom of the big, rickety old amphitheater, making blue flames and red flares and clouds of yellow stuff by pouring the contents of one test tube into another, and I shut his voice out of my ears by pretending it was only a mosquito in the distance and sat back enjoying the bright lights and the colored fires and wrote page after page of villanelles and sonnets.

What I fear most I think, is the death of the imagination.

I thought it would be the way I'd feel if I ever visited Europe. I'd come home, and if I looked closely into the mirror I'd be able to make out a little white Alp at the back of my eye. Now I thought that if I looked closely into the mirror I'd see a doll-size Constantin sitting in my eye and smiling out at me

Tudo o que eu já lera sobre gente maluca havia se fixado no meu cérebro, enquanto o resto evaporou.

The poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.

Allí iba yo otra vez, dispuesta a fabricarme una radiante imagen del hombre que me amaría apasionadamente desde el primer instante en el que me viera.

Lifting the pages of the book, I let them fan slowly by my eyes. Words, dimly familiar, but twisted all awry, like faces in a funhouse mirror, fled past, leaving no impression on the glassy surface of my brain.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt

Co je tak reálné jako kÃ…â"¢ik dítÄ›te? Králi?í skÃ…â"¢ek je možná divo?ejÅ¡í, ten ale nemá duÅ¡i.

I thought it would be the way I'd feel if I ever visited Europe. I'd come home, and if I looked closely into the mirror I'd be able to make out a little white Alp at the back of my eye.