Quotes About Imagination

Children are a place

Everything, she noticed, seemed capable of transmogrification. Even the two boulders in the backyard sometimes turned to silver in the early morning sunlight. In the books she read, every stream might be a river god, every tree a dryad in disguise, every old woman a powerful fairy, every pebble an enchanted soul. Anything had the potential to transform, and this, to her, seemed the true meaning of art.

She was always doing that, telling him stories. Prying open cracks for magic to seep in, making the world a place of possibility.

With each roll of film, however, she began to understand more and more how a photograph was put together, what it could do and what it could not, just how far you could stretch and twist it. Though she did not know it at the time, all of this was training her to be the photographer she would become.

A game they played, he and his mother, when he was very small. Before school, before he had any other world but her.

He never completed the sentence, but in his imagined future, he floated away, untethered.

Even her beloved Warren gave up at that point -- "I don't need to know how it works, Mi," he told her at last, "I just want to see the pictures" -- and Mia realized that she was crossing into a place she would have to go alone.

Later, when Moody saw the finished photos, he thought at first that Pearl looked like a delicate fossil, something caught for millennia in the skeleton belly of a prehistoric beast. Then he thought she looked like an angel resting with her wings spread out behind her. And then, after a moment, she looked simply like a girl asleep in a lush green bed, waiting for her lover to lie down beside her.

Lydia—so long enthralled by the dreams of others—could not yet imagine what that might be, but suddenly the universe glittered with possibilities.

Any act of writing is an act of empathy: you try to imagine yourself into another person's mind and skin. I tried to ask myself the questions the characters would have asked themselves. The

He had not been praying, but dreaming - which, she would realize later, came to almost the same thing.

For her the magic was not what words had been, but what they were capable of: their ability to sketch, with one sweeping brushstroke, the contours of an experience, the form of a feeling.

To Lexie, the world seemed nearly perfect, and her fantasies were her real life with all the colors dialed up.

Anything had potential to transform, and this, to her, seemed the true meaning of art.

plugging her ears by filling her head with dreams.

Once upon a time. Once upon a time there was—a boy who loved cats.

For Mia, Moody learned, did not consider herself a photographer. Photography, at its heart, was about documentation, and he soon understood that for Mia photography was simply a tool, which she used as a painter might use a brush or a knife.

Kitap bir limand? benim için. Kitaplarda ya?ad?m. Ve kitaplardaki insanlar? sokaktakilerden daha çok sevdim.

Seçme hürriyetimizin s?n?rs?z oldu?u tek dünya, kitaplar dünyas?d?r.

The desire to reach for the sky runs deep in our human psyche.

It is not that the child lives in a world of imagination, but that the child within us survives and starts into life only at rare moments of recollection, which makes us believe, and it is not true, that, as children, we were imaginative?

Human imagination is immensely poorer than reality.

Litterature is a defense against the attacks of life. It says to life: 'You can't deceive me. I know your habits, foresee and enjoy watching your reactions, and steal your secrets by involving you in cunning obstructions that halt your normal flow.' ...

Un passato deve essere tanto familiare da poterlo rivivere meccanicamente e tanto inaspettato da farci stupire ogni volta che vi ritorniamo: allora è adatto alla fantasia.