Quotes About Imagination

So while I can spin my fantasy whenever I wish, I'm afraid you wouldn't do for me." Sarcasm dripped from her every word. "You're good at imagining, so pray imagine my heartbreak.

He imagines himself a wit, but he's only half that.

family of friends, people she knows only by their voices. She especially likes Griswald, gruff old butler for wealthy Zack Givens.   Meeting Griswald is a shock; he is neither gruff nor old, but a powerful, handsome man. In fact, he is Zack Givens, cold, heartless — and charmed by the artless young woman who brings him chicken soup, treats him like a friend … and falls in love with the humble man she imagines him to be. Inevitably, she will face his betrayal. Then

But someone had been in here, probably a large African-American fairy godfather, for laid out on the bed was a dress

Most little girls don't want to play with trucks, as almost any parent can attest. Including me: when my son gave his daughter Eliza a toy train, she placed it in a baby carriage and covered it with a blanket so it could get some sleep.

What a dreary stodgy world of adults the children saw when they went out!

He tasted passion. He tasted emotion. He tasted a world he'd never imagined, one he could never enter. It was right there in front of him, suddenly open to him. Unexpected. Exciting. Scary.

Are you attempting to distract me from my task with your wanton thoughts? " There was a curling caress in Gabriel's voice, brushing at the walls of her mind, flooding her body with heat and excitement. " Wanton thoughts? You need a checkup, my boy. Your fantasy world seems to be growing larger with each passing day. I wanted you home to take out the trash.

Her body had been asleep but now it was wide awake and very aware of every inch of the Iceman. She'd already nicknamed him and thought of him as 'her' Iceman, even if it was just in her fantasies.

She looked at him as if she could see inside him, past the glacier, penetrate deep and see the man he could have been

In her mind danced the image of a shark with Thomas Ivan's white, practiced smile. Deliberately, Aidan teased her with the image until she was forced to laugh.

Her wild imagination immediately interpreted his statement as him claiming her, making her his, letting her know no matter what, he would stand for her.

It was beyond his imagination that such a miracle could occur. Just when he knew he would walk into the sun without hesitation, he had been sent an angel. A slow smile softened his mouth. His angel refused to do anything he told her.

It will take time, little one, but give our ways a chance. There are wondrous things we can do. Concentrate on the things you would enjoy. Shape-shifting, flying with birds, running free with the wolves." Her small fist jammed into her mouth to stop a strangled sound somewhere between fear and hysterical laughter.

to be here in his room waiting for him, it wasn't nearly enough. They

Now, Raven." "Don't you now-Raven me. That brother of yours, worm that he is, male chauvinist unequaled in modern times, told you something he didn't tell me, didn't he?" Leaning back with studied casualness, Jacques tipped his chair to a precarious angle and raised an eyebrow. "Women have vivid imaginations. I think you have a suspicious nature due to your American upbringing.

Comedians used Christine jokes with abandon, frequently when I was present, as even my name was good for a surefire laugh. Many of the stories were very unappetizing, and almost always dealt with the more lewd and phonographic aspects of sex. Probably it's because I was the subject of the commentary, but I've never quite understood why it reached such levels of popularity, though I admit that the sources showed phenomenal imagination.

Mr. Tompkins in Wonderland by George Gamow

Stories have the ability to take us inside all kinds of life.

A writer's unconscious is difficult to read, but the imagination is rooted in the unconscious.

Christopher Fowler

Literature, not scripture, sustains the mind and—since there is no other metaphor—also the soul.

It is pardonable for children to yell that they believe in fairies, but it is somehow sinister when the piping note shifts from the puerile to the senile.

Ethiopians imagine their gods as black and snub-nosed; Thracians blue-eyed and red-haired. But if horses or lions had hands, or could draw and fashion works as men do, horses would draw the gods shaped like horses and lions like lions, making the gods resemble themselves. Xenophanes