Quotes About Imagination

You'll look like a scary calavera now," Catty assured the young girl as she leaned back to admire the skeleton skull she had made on her face. "Who's next?" Catty asked and pulled out another paintbrush. Four hands shot up, but one little girl eased into the chair in front of Catty before she had a chance to choose. "My turn," she said. Catty smiled and began smudging white over the girl's rosy cheeks.

Fall asleep dreaming of the promise tomorrow brings.

the author's imagination or are used

This is a work of fiction.

We create space and time on the surface of our retinas.

A good story makes a journey go by more quickly. A really good story makes you forget you are even on a journey.

I tried to think whether I had ever had a great adventure. I decided that I had. It's all in how you look at it.

After that, of course, though he recovered later, nobody was about to believe any tales he had to tell about little live men.

Lynne Reid Banks

Indian and everything else, away. So Omri had had to keep it secret, and

Like the bodies of dancers or athletes, the minds of readers are genuinely happy and self-possessed only when cavorting around, doing their stretches and leaps and jumps to the tune of words.

In books I found explicitly, flamboyantly, everything censored in life.

Nothing is as horrendous as imagining the times of happiness from an environment which is that of hell.

We do not select the stories we write, we do not pick the voices. They take us by surprise and we surrender to them. They write us, they write in us, all over us, through us. They occupy us. We are, in a sense, puppets--to language, with language.

Estranged mountains bulged under the sky, the big sky, the endless sky. Anyway, no one could see an end to it, which reassured her, since so much seemed to be coming to an end. It felt that way. But it seemed impossible---the universe dropping off, ending, there would be an end, and then there would be nothing, a no more, a vacuum of no more. Her imagination couldn't let her go there.

Manners are about imagination, ultimately. They are about imagining being the other person.

We read privately, mentally listening to the author's voice and translating the writer's thoughts. The book remains static and fixed; the reader journeys through it.

To the thinker, the most trifling external object often suggests ideas, which, like Homer's chain, extend, link after link, from earth to heaven.

Dream, O youth! Dream manfully and nobly, and thy dreams shall be prophets!

You speak As one who fed on poetry.

Thought is valuable in proportion as it is generative.

Originality is merely an illusion.

My work is a game, a very serious game.

Poetry often enters through the window of irrelevance.