Quotes About Imagination

Any five-year-old girl – though boys would do – gave substance to her continued

Bitte keine magischen Zwergentrommler mehr', flehte er sie in einem Brief an, nachdem er seine Tirade abgelassen hatte. 'Keine Gespenster, Engel, Teufel oder Verwandlungen mehr. Wenn alles passieren kann, ist alles gleichgültig. Für mich ist das nichts als Kitsch.' / 'Du Dussel', tadelte sie ihn auf einer Postkarte, 'Du Erbsenzähler. Das ist Literatur, keine Physik!

Briony era una di quelle bambine possedute dal desiderio che al mondo fosse tutto assolutamente perfetto.

Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself is at the core of humanity. It is the essence of compassion, and it is the beginning of morality.

He leaves behind in the library a field of resonating sadness, an imagined shape, a disappointed hologram still in possession of his chair.

Certain artists in print or paint flourish, like babies-to-be, in confined spaces.

part of a daydream's enticement was the illusion that she was helpless before its logic

be bound in a nutshell, see the world in two inches of ivory, in a grain of sand. Why not, when all of literature, all of art, of human endeavour, is just a speck in the universe of possible things. And even this universe may be a speck in a multitude of actual and possible universes.

The money to buy even the cheapest of these things had been earned by Clive dreaming up sounds, by putting one note in front of another. He had imagined everything here, he had willed it all to be here, without anyone's help.

a sound principle being that nothing was ever as one imagined it, and this was an efficient means of excluding the worst.

When player and listener together know the route so well, the pleasure is in the deviation, the unexpected turn against the grain. To see a world in a grain of sand.

The revolutionary lone inventor was a fantasy of popular culture – and the Minister

I wanted characters I could believe in, and I wanted to be made curious about what was to happen to them.

Briony knew her only reasonable choice then would be to run away, to live under hedges, eat berries and speak to no one, and be found by a bearded woodsman one winter's dawn, curled up at the base of a giant oak, beautiful and dead, and barefoot, or perhaps wearing the ballet pumps with the pink ribbon straps . . .

This time she paused to peer out of the window at the dusk and wonder where her sister was. Drowned in the lake, ravished by gypsies, struck by a passing motor car, she thought ritually, a sound principal being that nothing was ever as one imagined it, and this was an efficient means of excluding the worst.

Reading was my way of not thinking about maths. More than that (or do I mean less?), it was my way of not thinking.

Robbie and Cecilia had been making love for years - by post. In their coded exchanges they had drawn close, but how artificial that closeness seemed now as they embarked on their small talk, their helpless catechism of polite query and response. As the distance opened up between them, they understood how far they had run ahead of themselves in their letters. This moment had been imagined and desired for too long, and could not measure up.

Reflecting on the night before, he found it extraordinary that after a lifetime of infidelities, a night with an imaginary friend was no less exciting.

Ragged curls of unfurling ampersands swam across her vision.

Own your creativity. You are creative with the same juice that flows in all of life. The question is not whether you are creative enough but whether you will free yourself to express it.

To an island people, enclosed on all sides by the sea, the quintessential great fighting admiral occupies a peculiar place in the national imagination.

Was I dreaming? Was what I saw real? Did you hear what she said before she disappeared? Do you remember her laugh the way I remember it now?

Are you sure you know where you're going? Andrea frowned. Would you like me to pull over and ask that bamboo for directions? I don't know, do you think it will answer? We peered at the bamboo. I think it looks suspicious, Andrea said. Maybe there is a heffalump hiding in it. Andrea stared at me. You know, heffalump? From Pooh Bear? Where do you even get this shit?

If the sky could dream, it would dream of dragons.