Quotes About Imagination

I would like my readers to close the cover at the end and say: Wow, I never thought of it like that before!

He knew that behind the skin of this world, there was another. And in that world the children were laughing.

Like the others, the children were clouded in a thin fog, though the cords of darkness weren't as developed.

I turned and saw her—the beautiful woman who was either a Fury of a totally different kind than any I'd imagined, or an angel.

Even the most misfitting child Who's chanced upon the library's worth, Sits with the genius of the Earth And turns the key to the whole world. --Hear It Again

There is no correct way to write a novel, or rather, there is only one, and that one way is to make it interesting. That is very easily said, but how do you make your writing interesting? The answer to the question is, that you write interestingly only about the things that genuinely interest you. This is an infallible rule.

If you were writing a book to be published, you might be restrained by the fear that your wild imaginings might drive some people crazy. As it is, you are free, you can go off in any direction whatsoever, so long as the flame in your mind burns that way.

Think of it this way: the object thinkers build the trains, and the spatial visualizers make them run.

Go, then! Go to the moon-you selfish dreamer!

She lives in a world of her own – a world of – little glass ornaments…

I cannot write any sort of story unless there is at least one character in it for whom I have physical desire.

I don't want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth.

Laws of silence don't work.... When something is festering in your memory or your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's just like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant....

It is almost as if you were frantically constructing another world while the world that you live in dissolves beneath your feet, and that your survival depends on completing this construction at least one second before the old habitation collapses.

And it was about then, about that time, that I began to find life unsatisfactory as an explanation of itself and was forced to adopt the method of the artist of not explaining but putting the blocks together in some other way that seems more significant to him. Which is a rather fancy way of saying I started writing.

When something is Festering on your memory or in your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's just like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant...

At the age of fourteen I discovered writing as an escape from a world of reality in which I felt acutely uncomfortable.

And she did. But that, dear reader, is another story . . .

And she was alone. Alone in the middle of crowded London, in the middle of a large and loving family. It was hard to imagine a lonelier spot.

that was the beauty of writing one's own tale. She could do whatever she wanted. She'd always wanted to be an evil overlord. Or a nice one. She had no real preference. Just so long as she was in charge.

There was a very slight lilt to it, too, attesting to a childhood spent far from Lincolnshire, and Grace felt herself sway, as if she could fall forward, lightly, softly, and land somewhere else. Far, far from here.

Most of us live in two worlds -- our real world and the one we build or spin for ourselves out of the books we read, the heroes we admire, the things we hope to do.

Imagination without reason is mere fancy, but reason without imagination is sterile.

If we pretend or imagine that life's purpose lies outside living itself, we will be searching the stars for what is underneath our feet all the time.