Quotes About Imagination

It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity

Creo que el arte oculta al artista más que lo descubre

Ordinary women never appeal to one's imagination. They are limited to their century. No glamour ever transfigures them. One knows their minds as easily as one knows their bonnets. One can always find them. There is no mystery in any of them. They ride in the park in the morning and chatter at tea parties in the afternoon. They have their stereotyped smile and their fashionable mauve.

It was useless. The brain had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, made grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving masks.

Ludzie, którzy kochajÄ… tylko jeden raz w ?yciu sÄ… pÅ'ytcy. To, co nazywajÄ… lojalnoÅ›ciÄ… i wiernoÅ›ciÄ…, ja nazywam bezwÅ'adem przyzwyczajeniem albo brakiem wyobra?ni. Wierno?? jest w ?yciu emocjonalnym tym samym, czym spójno?? w ?yciu intelektu - przyznaniem siÄ™ do pora?ki.

There is nothing that art cannot express

the people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people. What they call their loyalty, and their fidelity, I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life of the intellect--simply a confession of failure. Faithfulness!

Das wirkliche Leben war Chaos, aber es lag eine schreckliche Logik in der Phantasie.

We should remember that all the arts are fine arts and all the arts decorative arts.

I can now recreate life in a way that was hidden from me before.

Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the ocassion. It is not he who is revelead by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas , reveals himself.

As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake.

the poet must sing, and the sculptor think in bronze, and the painter make the world a mirror for his moods, as surely and as certainly as the hawthorn must blossom in spring, and the corn turn to gold at the harvest-time, and the moon in her ordered wanderings change from shield to sickle, and from sickle to shield.

Nebylo tu nic poÃ…â"¢ádného k snÄ›dku, bylo to jenom velké akvárium, jehož stÄ›ny tvoÃ…â"¢ily místo sklenÄ›ných tabulí ze dvou stran bÃ…â"¢ehy, dole písek, a nahoÃ…â"¢e nebe. A kolem dokola kvetly pomnÄ›nky a Ã…â"¢íkali vzpomínej.

et ignotas animum dimittit in artes, naturamque nouat. (to arts unknown he bends his wits, and alters nature.)

or that writing a poem you can read to no one is like dancing in the dark.

Poetry comes fine spun from a mind at peace.

Et ignotas animum dimittit in artes. And he sets his mind to unknown arts.

All other creatures look down toward the earth, but man was given a face so that might turn his eyes toward the stars and his gaze upon the sky.

the gods are created by poets --Ovid

And he sets his mind to unknown arts

I prate of ancient poets' monstrous lies, Ne'er seen or now or then by human eyes.

Phantasos: he takes illusory shapes of all inanimate things, earth, stones, rivers, trees.

et ignotas animum dimittit in artes, naturamque nouat.