Quotes About Imagination

Genius cannot simply float in the clouds, it must also operate down on earth.

He was lost in thought, vividly imagining scenes of battle and victory. He was a Boy Scout. He and his friends would form a group of volunteers, sharpshooters who would defend their country to the end. In a flash, his mind raced through time and space. He and his friends: a small group bound by honour and loyalty. They would fight, they would fight all night long; they would save their bombed-out, burning Paris.

2 June 1942. Never forget that the war will be over and that the entire historical side will fade away. Try to create as much as possible: things, debates Ã¢â'¬Â¦ that will interest people in 1952 or 2052.

Planes," Florence replied, looking up at the sky. "Won't they leave me the hell alone?" he thundered. He hated the war; it threatened much more than his lifestyle or peace of mind. It continually destroyed the world of the imagination, the only world where he felt happy. It was like a shrill, brutal trumpet shattering the fragile crystal walls he'd taken such pains to build in order to shut out the rest of the world.

Some day, he thought, I would like to meet a monster who LOOKS like a monster.

But it was hard to immerse yourself in a fictional tale, no matter how exciting, when your life was beginning to feel like a bestselling thriller.

Bereavement is a darkness impenetrable to the imagination of the unbereaved

Never seen the sea! How could anyone not have seen the sea? Surely the sea must somehow belong to the happiness of every child.

It is strange to think that when I went to the sea I imagined that I was giving up the world. But one surrenders power in one form, and grasps it in another.

The sending of a letter constitutes a magic grasp upon the future.

This figure, which I had so vaguely, idly, noticed before was now utterly changed in my eyes. The whole world was its background. And between me and it there hovered, perhaps for the last time, the vision of a slim long-legged girl with gleaming thighs. I ran.

You mustn't mind so much. It's all in your head. Well, I live in my head.

I believe that unfulfilled frustrated people probably spend a lot of their lives in pure fantasy-dreaming. This can I am sure be a great source of consolation though not always harmless.

He dreamt...he was a huge white egg floating in the sea of turquoise blue, and he was everything that there was.

What dangerous machines letters are. Perhaps it is as well that they are going out of fashion. A letter can be endlessly reread and reinterpreted, it stirs imagination and fantasy, it persists, it is red-hot evidence. It was a long time since I had received anything resembling a love letter.

Only stories and magic really endure.

At this point Bellamy suddenly remembered another dream which at the time had made him smile. He dreamt he was a little tiny frightened animal called 'Spingle-spangle'. Later he did not smile. The little doomed creature was an image of what he most feared, insanity.

And suffering we know breeds images, it breeds the most beautiful images of all.

She tells so many different stories and they are all false.

Artists are indeed unlikely to be good, goodness would silence them.

You daren't think, so you live in a dream.

However one must ask not just, is it amusing, is it exciting, but is it a work of art?

But what words exactly did he use? People who aren't writers never describe things exactly .

And what an intense heavenly blue the sea is, not a dark blue at all, but like a cauldron of light.