Quotes About Imagination

Days that haunt the poem's single day are like the air revisiting this house of vocables that you and I designed: its windows watch an ocean and a sky to learn what portion of the other's mind the jet-trails presage: letters are stones that fly to settle in a wall of which the line traces an hour, a where, a place of thought. What is more palpable, the thing we saw or the images its recollection brought into the mind to ask us what we are? from "Day

Sorprendido por el nuevo instrumento e irritado por sus poderes de reproducción inmediata, el poeta olvidaba que detrás de la lente fotográfica hay un hombre: una sensibilidad y una fantasía. Un punto de vista.

El lente es una poderosa prolongación del ojo y, sin embargo, lo que nos muestra la fotografía, una vez revelada la película, es algo que no vio el ojo o que no pudo retener la memoria. Imaginar, componer y crear son verbos colindantes. Por la composición, la fotografía es un arte.

La fotografía es un arte poético porque, al mostrarnos "esto", alude o presenta a "aquello". Comunicación continua entre lo explícito y lo implícito, lo ya visto y lo no visto. El dominio propio de la fotografía, como arte, no es distinto al de la poesía: lo impalpable y lo imaginario.

Eres tan sólo un sueño, pero en ti sueña el mundo y su mudez habla con tus palabras.

La poesía nos hace tocar lo impalpable y escuchar la marea del silencio cubriendo un paisaje devastado por el insomnio.

don't you have this sense sometimes that our life is essentially just the tip of the iceberg, and if you stop clinging to your puny bit of ice in fear or out of habit and just dive into the water, you will discover this luminous mass going down, deep down, and meet creatures you can't even imagine, and have thoughts and feelings no one has ever had before . . .

For what, after all, is the difference between a memory and a fantasy? Are not both a succession of imprecisely rendered images further obscured by imprecisely chosen words and animated only by the wistful effort of one's imagination? And who is to say that a vividly imagined moment of happiness is not, in the end, more enriching to the spirit than a hazy semi-recollection of some pallid pastime?

Oh and finding happiness in the small things, my dear, that's really nothing to brag about - it's the last consolation of those whose imaginations have failed them.

Sometimes it's like people are a million times more beautiful to you in your mind. It's like you see them, that's how they really are.

So age succeeds age, and dream succeeds dream, and of the joy of the dreamer no man knoweth but he who dreameth. Our fathers had their dreams; we have ours; the generation that follows will have its own. Without dreams and phantoms man cannot exist.

Don't let us make imaginary evils, when you know we have so many real ones to encounter.

It wasn't an alternative to experience, or an escape from it. Not if you did it right. Reading was the only way we could transcend our own experience and deeply engage in that of another's.

If you're going to binge, literature is definitely the way to do it.

What God intended for you goes far beyond anything you can imagine.

When I didn't have friends, I had books.

Even as a kid, my memories are of books taking me out of myself.

Create the highest, grandest vision possible for your life, because you become what you believe

Books, for me, have always been a way to escape. They were my path to personal freedom. I actually learned to read at the age of three, and once I did, I quickly learned that there was a whole world beyond my grandmother's farm in Mississippi.

Crea la mas alta y mas grandiosa vision posible para tu vida, porque te conviertes en lo que crees.

The thoughts that linger are the "if only" questions, like Who could I have become if I had finally done the things I always wanted to do?

On my own I will just create, and if it works, it works, and if it doesn't, I'll create something else. I don't have any limitations on what I think I could do or be.

Heaven was the place where you kept alive the dreams of your memories.

A writer is someone who spends years patiently trying to discover the second being inside him, and the world that makes him who he is: when I speak of writing, what comes first to my mind is not a novel, a poem, or literary tradition, it is a person who shuts himself up in a room, sits down at a table, and alone, turns inward; amid its shadows, he builds a new world with words.