Quotes About Imagination

Armenians have more imagination than Mohammedans.

It seemed to her that she was reading the story of her own dreams, desires, and hopes. She sensed something immense, something calling behind the chaos of these primitive forms and structures of words.

Anyhow, my point is that you know now that nonfiction is never the entire truth, and fiction is almost never pure fabrication.

Starting in the 1900s, from coast to coast and seven days a week, Americans more than anyone on Earth could immerse in the virtuosic fantasies created and sold by show business and the media. This was a new condition. As we spent more and more fabulous hours engaged in the knowing and willing suspension of disbelief, experiencing the unreal as real, we became more habituated to suspending disbelief unconsciously and involuntarily as well.

J.R.R. Tolkien, had it right in the lecture he gave just after he published The Hobbit. "Fantasy," he said in 1939, talking about fantastical prose fiction, "is a natural human activity. It certainly does not destroy or even insult Reason; and it does not either blunt the appetite for, nor obscure the perception of, scientific verity. On the contrary. The keener and the clearer is the reason, the better fantasy will it make.

Then I read The Once and Future King, and for most of a year I was young Arthur, Dad was Merlyn, and it was my destiny to create the perfect kingdom of Camelot somewhere beyond northeastern Illinois.

I'm a writer. I just love telling stories." -Interview with Tasha Robinson, avclub.com February 14, 2001.

I really haven't had that exciting of a life. There are a lot of things I wish I would have done, instead of just sitting around and complaining about having a boring life. So I pretty much like to make it up. I'd rather tell a story about somebody else.

I really haven't had that exciting of a life. There are a lot of things I wish I would have done, instead of just sitting around and complaining about having a boring life. So I pretty much like to make it up. I'd rather tell a story about somebody else.

Inspiration,' the false artist says, 'it just comes to me.' And it shows. His pictures are as like as the four walls of his room -- morning, evening, midnight, noon. For myself, I have to search for it. The whole world is your palate, but only if you reach, take hold of what you need and pocket it.

Werfen Sie das häßliche Kind weg, gnädige Frau; ich mache Ihnen ein neues, ein viel schöneres.

People don't come to church for preachments, of course, but to daydream about God.

Anyway -- because we are readers, we don't have to wait for some communications executive to decide what we should think about next -- and how we should think about it. We can fill our heads with anything from aardvarks to zucchinis -- at any time of night or day.

We are what we imagine ourselves to be.

You know—we've had to imagine the war here, and we have imagined that it was being fought by aging men like ourselves. We had forgotten that wars were fought by babies. When I saw those freshly shaved faces, it was a shock. "My God, my God—" I said to myself, "it's the Children's Crusade."

Books are fun, Nicholas, he says, they're like amusement parks for readers. Yeah, well, maybe they would be fun if I got to pick the rides sometimes, you answer

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Chambers if I am your heart imagine me inside beating, pumping, loving

The mind of an adult begins in the imagination of a child.

Dreams are today's answers for tomorrow's questions.

The things that never come true stay in our hearts forever.

Unlike our current depictions of the church's relationship to Christ, which are often stoic—emotionless and without poetic imagination—Edwards refuses to hold back: "the soul shall, as it were, all dissolve in love in the arms of the glorious Son of God and breath itself wholly in ecstasies of divine love into his bosom."[5] People are fully alive in heaven, and being fully alive entails being saturated with love:

Nonfiction lets us learn more; fiction lets us be more.

I wished the dream were real, and this reality a dream. But that wasn't the case. And that was why, whenever I woke up, I'd be crying. It wasn't because I was sad. When you return from a happy dream to sad reality, there's a chasm you have to step across, and you can't cross it without shedding tears. It doesn't matter how many times you do it.