Quotes About Imagination

Aren't you a little old for toys?" "It's not a toy, it's an adventure

Creative people study other people; and music is a science as much as an art, an emotion as much as a science.

True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.   —William Shakespeare

Easy enough. I was thinking in the neighborhood of five million." She swallowed—hard—the spaghetti she'd wound around her fork. "I don't have that big a bucket, or spend much time in that neighborhood. You make it." "Done." He

McNab pranced in on plaid airboots

And I want a mansion in Connecticut with a pool boy named Steve.

Alone, Eve wondered how anyone managed to work in a room without a window. Then she wondered, with all of those books Ã¢â'¬Â¦ Maybe they were his window.

Her feet were killing her. And it made her imagine traveling back in time, hunting down whoever had invented stiletto heels, and beating the crap out of him.

There are people who have the capacity to imagine themselves as someone else, there are people who have no such capacity (when the lack is extreme, we call them psychopaths), and there are people who have the capacity but choose not to exercise it.

Unimaginable perhaps; but the unimaginable is there to be imagined.

Yet we cannot live our daily lives in a realm of pure ideas, cocooned from sense-experience. The question is not, How can we keep the imagination pure, protected from the onslaughts of reality? The question has to be, Can we find a way for the two to coexist?

Deprived of human intercourse, I inevitably overvalue the imagination and expect it to make the mundane glow with an aura of self-transcendence.

we can pretend that the book in question is not Mr. West's but mine, made mine by the madness of my reading.

Resulta extraño añorar lo jamás tenido, aquello de lo que nunca ha formado parte. Resulta extraño tener una sensación elegíaca acerca de un pasado que en realidad nunca ha conocido

Does it surprise you as much as it does me, this correspondence between things as they are and the pictures we have of them in our minds?

Resulta extraño añorar lo jamás tenido, aquello de lo que nunca ha formado parte. Resulta extraño tener una sensación elíaca acerca de un pasado que en realidad nunca ha conocido

Y deja de pasar así las páginas. ¿Por qué lo manejas con tanta brusquedad? –Porque… Porque si no me doy prisa se abrirá un agujero. –¿Dónde? –Entre las páginas. –Qué tontería. No hay ningún agujero entre las páginas.

Qué es el futuro, al fin y al cabo, más que una estructura de expectativas y esperanzas? Reside en la mente. Carece de realidad.

Hunde la cabeza en la camiseta del niño. ¿Es pura imaginación suya o la tela conserva aún el leve olor a canela de la piel del niño?

Su hijo tiene… ¿cómo llamarlo? Una seguridad en sí mismo nada habitual en alguien tan pequeño. No le dan miedo las aventuras; las aventuras de la mente.

we also first beheld Unveiled the summit of Mont Blanc, and grieved To have a soulless image on the eye That had usurped upon a living thought That never more could be.

Entonces quiero hablar filosofía ahora! ¿Qué pasa si no me despierto? ¿Por qué no está permitido que venga aquí don Quijote? –Don Quijote puede cruzar los mares y venir, pero tiene que hacerlo en un libro, como el que lo trajo cuando llegó hasta ti. No puede aparecerse en carne y hueso. En cuanto a no despertarse, si no nos despertamos nunca, entonces… nada, nada, nada. Eso es lo que quiero decir con filosofía.

Nothing is worse than what we can imagine

It always puzzled him, when he was a child, that a woman who wrote books for a living should be so bad at telling bedtime stories.