Quotes About Imagination

After all, you can storm the house of a novel like Barthes, rearranging the furniture as you choose, or you can enter on your knees, like the pilgrim Nabokov thought you were, and try to figure out the cunning design of the place - the house will stand either way.

Clarence, look see! It de young prince in white. 'Im come to play domino. I jus' look in his eye and I and I knew 'im play domino. 'Im an hexpert.

Svaka knjiga, svaki svezak koji vidiš, ima dušu. Dušu onoga koji ju je napisao i onih koji su je ?itali, proživeli i uz nju sanjarili. Svaki put kada knjiga pre?e iz ruke u ruku, svaki put kad neko pogledom preleti njene stranice, njen duh raste i ja?a. Karlos Ruis Safon: Senka vetra

Mogla bih da prepri?am sadržaj, ali bilo bi to kao opisivati katedralu govore?i za nju da je gomila kamenja koja se završava jednim šiljkom

i libri sono specchi in cui troviamo solo ciò che abbiamo dentro di noi, e (...) la lettura coinvolge mente e cuore, due merci sempre più rare.

Beatriz Aquilar : i libri sono specchi in cui troviamo solo ciò che abbiamo dentro di noi, e (...) la lettura coinvolge mente e cuore. - L'ombra del vento

Poezija rašoma ašaromis, apsakymai - krauju, o istorija - nematomu rašalu

Love is indeed blind, and it makes you imagine qualities in a person that don't exist.

You dream… or you're driven mad.

The windows of the

We fall asleep on words / we wake among words

Very early on, near the beginning of my writing life, I came to believe that I had to seize on some object outside of literature. Writing as a sylistic exercise seemed barren to me. Poetry as the art of the word made me yawn. I also understood that I couldn't sustain myself very long on the poems of others. I had to go out from myself and literature, look around in the world and lay hold of other spheres of reality.

The dead have need of fairy tales too.

Time is a dimension of human understanding, a challenge to our assumptions, imagination and our ability to make and, on occasion, break connections.

She was saving up feelings for some man she had never seen.

I had hundreds of books under my skin already. Not selected reading, all of it. Some of it could be called trashy. I had been through Nick Carter, Horatio Alger, Bertha M. Clay and the whole slew of dime novelists in addition to some really constructive reading. I do not regret the trash. It has harmed me in no way. It was a help, because acquiring the reading habit early is the important thing. Taste and natural development will take care of the rest later on.

She knew things that nobody had ever told her... She knew the world was a stallion rolling in the blue pastor of ether. She knew that God tore down the old world every evening and built a new one every sun-up. It was wonderful to see it take form with the sun and emerge from the gray dust of its making.

When the people sat around on the porch and passed around the pictures of their thoughts for the others to look at and see, it was nice. The fact that the thought pictures were always crayon enlargements of life made it even nicer to listen to.

It is one of the blessings of this world that few people see visions and dream dreams.

Sometimes she stuck out into the future, imagining her life different from what is was.

Mind-pictures brought feelings, and feelings dragged out dramas from the hollows of the heart.

You saw a fluttering fan before her face and magnolia blooms and sleepy lakes under the moonlight when she walked.

Sometimes she stuck out into the future, imagining her life different from what it was. But mostly she lived between her hat and her heels, with her emotional disturbances like shade patterns in the woods—come and gone with the sun.

She had learned how to talk some and leave some. She was a rut in the road. Plenty of life beneath the surface but it was kept beaten down by the wheels. Sometimes she stuck out into the future, imagining her life different from what it was. But mostly she lived between her hat and her heels, with her emotional disturbances like shade patterns in the woods--come and gone with the sun. She got nothing from Jody except what money could buy, and she was giving away what she didn't value.