Quotes About Imagination

Good thing he changed it," Jerry mused. "Who could take a vampire named Will Walwoi seriously?" "Jerry … !" "Will Walwoi, Prince of Darkness! Curse of Will Walwoi! Will Walwoi Meets the Wolfman! Abbott and Costello Meet Will Walwoi!" Jerry began to laugh. "Can you imagine Bela Lugosi saying, 'Good eeevening. I am Will Walwoi!

The reasons he could not continue with a book were usually the same: he would reach a particularly vivid image or a passage that threatened to pull him into another reality, and it frightened him, sometimes even into terror.

We can venture forth into the great primordial stone swamp." "Interesting return address." She puckered up her face. "Better than writing Washington, D.C., on your letters.

An entire meal made of pumpkin, from something resembling chicken (strips of rind from near the skin, boiled in chicken stock and then broiled) and something else resembling mashed potatoes, and things that looked like carrots and cucumbers and even peas, with pumpkin tea and pumpkin ice cream for dessert. Pumpkin ravioli, and soup, and sausage. Pumpkin pancakes, waffles. Pumpkin french toast, made with pumpkin bread.

I was lying on the ground. I could feel my blood mixing with the dirt. And Reese said, 'You can stay up here and fuck the grizzly bears, puss.' And the goddamned thing is, when I finally was able to stand up, I was more scared of imaginary grizzly bears than I was of Reese. Although I'm sure a grizzly bear has better table manners. I just motivated myself the hell away, as fast as I could crawl. I'm not even sure there are grizzly bears around here, anyway.

Any reader unable to distinguish between the historical and fictional elements of the plot is urged to seek professional help as quickly as possible.

There are times in life you wish dinosaurs weren't extinct and could be whistled to come and gulp you down.

Having picked some tea, he drank it, Then he sprouted wings, And flew to a fairy mansion, To escape the emptiness of the world....

About John Updike's Rabbit Run] The author fails to convince us that his puppets are interesting in themselves, or that their plight has implications that transcend their narrow world.

For the story — from Rumpelstiltskin to War and Peace — is one of the basic tools invented by the mind of man, for the purpose of gaining understanding. There have been great societies that did not use the wheel, but there have been no societies that did not tell stories.

It is said that the first storyteller crept at night to listen to the gods talking in their sleep — so each tale collected contained the breath of gods.

One of the choice bits of fathering is telling fairy tales in the heel of the evening when the tireless legs have begun to drag a little and the running tongue pauses a bit in its outpouring. Here is fun and sly gleaning of lore and guide posts to pleasant roads and a hint of fine taste. A good story cries out to be told and the art of listening needs to be cultivated as much as the greatly desired gift of telling.

Fantasies, visions, hallucinations or whatever we call those irrational powers that illuminate our inner life fascinate me. I'm particularly intrigued by the creative intelligence that scripts our dreams. And I love how this dramatic energy finds its way to the page, into the one form that most precisely defines who we are: story.

Bedtime stories are a doorway to dreams.

I get so excited over sunsets and rainbows etc, when you see them it's like you can shut out the real world and envelop yourself in a beauty that almost makes it feel like fantasy.

Clouds blaze brilliant colors in a sky on fire.

You think it, I ink it.

Income tax returns are the most imaginative fiction being written today.

They sipped and shared next to a teapot of whistling wishes and steaming dreams.

Teaching should be full of ideas instead of stuffed with facts.

I have long thought, and still think, that radio is magic. Television is OK, but radio is magic. If television had been invented first and then radio had come along, people would think, "What a wonderful thing this radio is! It's like television except you don't have to look at it!"

It's all about colour and texture. It's about being outside in the middle of deciduous forest, the tall grasses and rustling leaves. You can take one maple leaf and see almost all the colours of the rainbow in it — although you would need your imagination to see blue.

There is a great renaissance going on. The flood of brains and imagination from the country to the cities is being stemmed — and a gradually increasing trickle is running in the opposite direction.

No, no, the mind I love must still have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two (real snakes), a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of — and paths threaded with those little flowers planted by the mind. It must also have real hiding places, not artificial ones — not gazebos and mazes. And I have never yet met the cultivated mind that has not had its shrubbery.