Quotes About Imagination

A dream is a wish your heart makes.

One of these days, I'm going to astral project myself up into the skies," he boasted. "I'll be going to the stars and the moon. I want to fly and see what's up there. "I want to go up to the sky," he said, looking at his aunt, "from star to star.

L'homme a un penchant naturel à imaginer des théories correctes de toutes espèces... Si l'homme n'était pas doué d'un esprit adapté à ses besoins, il n'aurait jamais pu acquérir aucune connaissance

Reading is like a journey to a new place

Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the others were making ships.

The ambition of much of today's literary theory seems to be to find ways to read literature without imagination.

The poem I want to write is impossible. A stone that floats.

The idea is to spin the wheel of metaphors and images until sparks of associations begin to fly for the reader.

And of course, for all we know, I might be a hundred years old already, and she just a sleepy little girl with glasses.

I love America," he'd tell us. We were going to make a million dollars manufacturing objects we had seen in dreams that night.

Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships.

If the sky falls they shall have clouds for supper.

Wanted: a needle swift enough to sew this poem into a blanket

A poem is an invitation to a voyage. As in life, we travel to see fresh sights.

In memory of Terry Pratchett, who showed us all how it's done

I am not trying to seduce you. "I know that. But please, Mrs. Robinson. This is difficult for me." "Why is it," she said "Because I am confused about things. I can't tell what I'm imagining. I can't tell what's real. I can't --" "Would you like me to seduce you?" "What?" "Is that what you're trying to tell me?

Over the white curve he had looked into incredible space; abysses of intelligence lay beyond it.

Sir Joshua Reynolds, said Jonathan, "once alluded to 'common observation and a plain understanding' as the source of all art.

Meanwhile, the mole goes on with its subterranean daydreams, The dogs lie around like rugs

That I isn't I anymore. It's someone else, the character who plays me, someone who's a better actor than I could ever be. I'm just the writer. Someone else is starring in my part. I remember him just well enough to try to write about him. A case of the negative sublime. I guess art's always after the fact. The real is imaginary, or imagined. Reconstitution, reconstruction, representation is all we're left with. Autobiography becomes biography in the end.

When what you write about is what you see, what do you write about when it's dark? from "32

When you are thirteen, you spend all your time imagining what it would be like to live in a world where you could pay a robot for sex. And that sex would cost a dollar. And the only obstacle to getting that sex would be making sure you had four quarters. Then you grow up and it turns out you do live in that kind of world. A world with coin-operated sexbots. And it's not really as great as you thought it would be.

Love from the abandoned heart of a nonexistent dog.

Move forward, into the empty plane. Find the book you wrote, and read it until the end, but don't turn the last page yet, keep stalling, see how long you can keep expanding the infinitely expandable moment. Enjoy the elastic present, which can accommodate as little or as much as you want to put in there. Stretch it out, live inside of it.