Quotes About Imagination

For what was a book if not a long consecutive surrender to the movements of another's soul?

Dreams drawn from the sheath.

Don't get ahead of the story,lad. You see, it's a very long story- because Danny Lubbins was at sea on that tiny slip of a plank raft... for three hundred days.

I became more and more confused. My brain got so fuzzy, I even began to wonder if I'd ever actually been a boy at all. Maybe I'd really been a bee for my entire life, and I'd just dreamed about being a boy.

to see the drooling, pink mouth open

I mean, who could think about sneakers when an invisible building was waiting to be discovered?

Many adults feel that every children's book has to teach them something.

I dreamed about melons that night. I dreamed that a casaba melon grew in our front yard. Grew and grew and grew. Bigger than our house. Something startled me out of my melon dream. I fumbled for my alarm clock. One A.M. Then I heard a howl. A low, mournful howl. Outside the house. I jumped out of bed and hurried to the window.

liked to tell me ghost stories that happened here. He said ghosts walked the halls at night, clanking their chains." Robby shook his head. "Why do ghosts always have to clank chains?" he said. "If they are ghosts, couldn't they just slip out of their chains?

Halloween?" Sabrina Mason asked. She moved her fork around in the bright yellow macaroni on her lunch tray but didn't take a bite. Carly Beth Caldwell sighed and shook her head. The overhead light on the lunchroom ceiling made her straight brown hair gleam. "I don't know. A witch, maybe." Sabrina's mouth dropped open. "You? A witch?" "Well, why not?" Carly Beth demanded

Was it it possible that I thought a pile of clothes was a smiling girl?' - Amanda Benson

would be funny if Mr. Piccolo resembled a piccolo, but he doesn't. Actually, he's quite round. More like a bass fiddle. He has a big pouch of a belly that stretches the oversized turtleneck sweaters he always wears. He has a round face, too. He's mostly bald and his scalp shines like a bowling ball. He wears square eyeglasses, which are always sliding down

There are all kinds of worlds in the real world, she said softly. Most people don't know that. ~ (From The Nightmare Room #8, Shadow Girl)

That was my costume for the past five years. A hobo. Actually, it wasn't much of a costume. I wore one of Dad's baggy old suits with patches on the pants. Mom rubbed charcoal on my face to make me look dirty. And I carried a knapsack on a fishing pole over my shoulder. Bor-ring!

Now play nicely , make-believe dead girl

If you ask me if I'm imagining it again, I'm going to punch you out, Dead Man Walking." Michael raised his eyebrows and glanced at Eve. "He doesn't sound crazy." "Er," she clarified, "crazier. He sounds like he's back to normal, which is baseline crazy.

What's burning?" "Your brain.

I had no name for that particular hue of orange, other than unfortunate.

Planet Shane is a lovely place a long way from here.

No one with a book is ever alone, even in the darkest moments.

They've all got stories, Jess thought. I need to know them. Best of all, he could know them. He could learn anything here. It felt like limitless possibilities.

With the right books, we can change everything.

You call us book lovers, and it's true. We are. And so are you, at heart. You believe in the power of them to change the world.

Someday, the stars will reach back.