Quotes About Imagination

this land where freedom made possible the unlimited use of the human imagination and facilitated technology advanced enough to save the world when the world needed saving

Poetry is not efficient. If you want to learn how to cook a lobster, it's probably best not to look to poetry. But if you want to see the word lobster in all its reactant oddity, its pied beauty, as if for the first time, go to poetry. And if you want to know what it's like to be that lobster in the pot, that's in poetry too.

Poets are excellent students of blizzards and salt and broken statuary, but they are always elsewhere for the test. Any intention in the writing of poetry besides the aim to make a poem, of engaging the materials, SHOULD be disappointed. If the poet does not have the chutzpah to jeopardize habituated assumptions and practices, what will be produced will be sleep without dream, a copy of a copy of a copy.

I don't believe in writer's block, writing well is very easy; it's writing horribly, the horrible work necessary to do to get to writing well, that is so difficult one may just not be willing to do it.

Even in sleep, dreamily I leap from the top stair to grab the arrow about to pierce my father's chest. I saved him I think for a moment then the feeling, no, that isn't so.

God created us to dream. When we fail to dream, we rob Him of the opportunity to do great things. Sometimes we shy away from dreaming big dreams. Maybe we don't want to ask for too much. Maybe we somehow don't feel worthy. But over and over again in the Bible, the Lord instructs us to envision what He can do. Our job is to dream.

Watching a complex stitch pattern grow as I knit silences the voice in my head that tells me to sweep the floor. I imagine dust bunnies are knitting themselves together under my chair.

Color is a feeling for me. I work by feeling! —Tina, Freia Handpaint Yarns

Prim and proper, a cat woman . . .Hmm, I was left to wonder. Possibly a librarian in her late forties or early fifties. In town for a special occasion? It certainly left me to ponder her story.

he was living in a dream world, then he never wanted to wake up.

Twenty wishes that would help her recapture her excitement about life. Twenty dreams written down. Twenty possibilities that would give her a reason to look toward the future

Dreams remain only wisps of enjoyable but useless imagination if we don't give them an anchor to hold to. If we don't make them determined goals. Faith in God is that anchor. It's what enables that dream to come off the shelf and sit right down in front of us.

When we worry," Drew continued, "we take reality and move it into the realm of fiction. What is real is transferred into the land of monsters and dragons, which seem far bigger and more frightening than they really are.

I do love a good yarn, fiction and fiber. The only thing that equals my joy in knitting is the pleasure of reading!" —Priscilla

I stop to change my film. Without the camera to shield my eyes, I start to feel weak. Queasy. The room tilts. I see the heart lying there, inert and cold. I see the women shoving it back inside the chest cavity... I picture the cavity behind my eyes, and instead of a brain I imagine an enormous roll of film, winding maniacally inside a bloodless metallic skull. A simple recording device, nothing more.

Ian was living in fairyland and in our own way we all helped him to stay there.

Even before you've gone anywhere, you feel like you've gone somewhere

The hardest memories are the pieces of what might have been.

If, if, if. If a frog had wings, he wouldn't bump his ass every time he jumped.

The space reminded me of the small hay-bale clubhouses and scrap-wood tree forts that my brothers and I had made as kids - high up spaces where you could see things differently, where you could get your bearings.

Do you think you can cause something to happen just from wanting it so much?' she asked. 'I don't get what you mean. Does this have to do with your dad?' asked Frannie. 'Not really. I'm talking about loneliness.' Frannie turned around and considered her answer. For awhile she seemed to be in a wilderness of her own. 'Do you mean that you imagined that Issy was your friend?' 'Yes, so completely that it was real.' 'Oh, that can happen. I believe that totally. Loneliness is powerful.

I've gotten to make my living by my imagination. That's a lovely thing.

passion is by no means the fuller life which it seems to be in the dreams of adolescence, but is on the contrary a kind of naked and denuding intensity, verily, a bitter destitution, the impoverishment of a mind being emptied of all diversity, an obsession of the imagination by a single image.

Nothing is duller than a progression of common chords. One wants some contrast, which breaks up the clear white light and makes it iridescent.