Quotes About Imagination

Creativity is the language of childhood and we don't want to miss a word.

And it is unstructured play that provides the greatest opportunities for kids to be curious, creative, spontaneous, and collaborative.

He liked the way the obsidian reflected his light, the way its slick surfaces caught fire as he passed. Of course, he did not consider how black it would be when he was gone. My father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it.

And perhaps you should get some new stories, so I don't fucking kill myself of boredom.

I cannot bear this world a moment longer. Then, child, make another.

It was a trick of his, to set a sentence out like a plate on a table and see what you would put on it. But he surprised me by continuing.

I thought: I cannot bear this world a moment longer. Then, child, make another.

It was easy to see how such lovely things might become songs.

It was a trick of his, to set a sentence out like a plate on a table and see what you would put on it.

i had never thought of having children, but looking at him, for a moment i could imagine it

He was no storyteller, as he had said, but that made it more enjoyable somehow, watching his serious face as he described flying horses and golden apples.

I was giddy feeling his first kicks and I spoke to him every moment, as I crushed my herbs, as I cut clothes for his body, wove his cradle out of rushes. I imagined him walking beside me, the child and boy and man that he would be.

I brought a withered flower back to life. I banished flies from my house. I made the cherries blossom out of season and turned the fire vivid green. If Aeetes had been there, he would have choked on his beard to see such kitchen tricks. Yet because I knew nothing, nothing was beneath me.

I felt him looking at me, admiring his work. He had not carved me like this, but he was imagining doing it. A beautiful statue, named The Supplicant.

When I was a boy and everyone played at wrestling monsters like Heracles, I dreamed of being Daedalus instead. It seemed the greater genius to look at raw wood and iron, and imagine marvels.

I had been dreaming myself a fish, silvered by sun as it leaped from the sea.

They think of the stories that will be told, and they long to be in them.

And to the far north were a people who did not believe that Oceanos' river circled the earth, but instead it was a great girdling serpent, thick around as a boat and always hungry. It could never be still, for its appetite drove it ever onwards, devouring everything bite by bite, and one day when it had eaten all the world, it would devour itself.

That night we camped on the shore of a flourishing green land. Around their fires, the men were tense and quiet, muffled by dread. I could hear their whispers, the wine sloshing as they passed it. No man wanted to lie awake imagining tomorrow.

She lives so completely in books that I don't think she takes anything that happens in the real world very seriously. She

She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm and heavy and the sparkling darkness behind her lids became ordered and doors opened; when conscious thought grew owl's wings and talons and became other than conscious.

Stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories.

He knew he would have to believe in order to go where she had been; knew that, if he believed, he could go there even if it didn't exist, if it was make-believe. He moved the hand she had drawn around her down her long flesh, and with a little sound she pressed herself against him. He searched himself for that old will, long in disuse. If she went there, ever, he didn't want to be left behind; wanted to never be farther from than this.

The eye records. The eye takes vivid, unforgettable pictures.