Quotes About Imagination

When admiring a painting, Don't examine the paint. When meeting an artist, Don't look at the brush.

Be creative. Thus we contribute and thus we elevate our souls.

Our imaginations are in thrall to the institutions of oppression.

One should not only photograph things for what they are but for what else they are.

Tot està per fer i tot és possible

el escritor es un inimputable, como lo es un niño o un loco. Puede perpetrar actos trascendentales de consecuencias cataclísmicas, pero como un menor de edad que no calcula las consecuencias por falta de madurez, el escritor debe ser absuelto cuando se constate que de modo impredecible e involuntario ha cambiado el devenir natural de las cosas.

La estampa del viajero en motocicleta es siempre la de un jinete de paso con la que los críos sueñan.

lector, si estás ahí, sueña y vive para hacer realidad tus sueños aunque sea por unos pocos instantes de ilusa ensoñación porque entonces conocerás el sabor de la verdadera vida.

Without our dreams, we are nothing

and chicken bones for fossilized remains. A lifetime later I am building a world inside my head: I run down narrow staircases, dark halls and passageways, chased by the fear of forgetting. Inside a room is a diorama from deep time, when dinosaurs ruled the earth. In 1969, the year our mother's younger cousin, Philip, shipped out for Vietnam, and our father stopped sending us child support, I turned ten years

My father taught me how to substitute realities.

The truth is a noble grail to seek. But if you're after it, you must imagine, first, what it will mean to get it. The truth is neither good nor bad. It is above evil. Above morality. It doesn't offer anything besides itself.

Live the dream, Potato.

Try not to base your decision on this room, it isn't representative of the whole world. Somewhere the sun is hot on a rubbery leaf, clouds are making shapes and reshaping and reshaping, a spiderweb is broken but still works.

it wasn't pretend, I wasn't in a fairytale or a fable. I shut my eyes and absorbed the silent whoomp that always accompanies this revelation. It's the sound of the real world, gigantic and impossible, replacing the smaller version of reality that I wear like a bonnet, clutched tightly under my chin.

I knew the beginning and the end – I just had to dream up a convincing middle.

When I was fifteen, a dark shape came into my room at night. It was dark, but it glowed, which is the first of many facts you will have to tackle with your imagination. It wasn't in the shape of a person, but right away I knew it was like a person in every way except for how it looked. As it turns out, our looks are not the main thing that makes us human.

I drove to the doctor's office as if I was starring in a movie Phillip was watching -- windows down, hair blowing, just one hand on the wheel. When I stopped at red lights, I kept my eyes mysteriously forward. Who is she? people might have been wondering. Who is that middle-aged woman in the blue Honda?

It would require constant vigilance to not replace each person with my own fictional version of them.

After passionately nursing this idea for about an hour, I suddenly had another idea: no I wouldn't. Of course I wouldn't make an entire city out of cereal boxes in the basement. The moment I had this second thought, I knew this was the real one.

I wouldn't use a British accent out loud, but I'd be using one in my head and it would carry over.

She was standing on the moon and if I responded I would be on the moon too, right next to her.

When I said "a lot of work," I moved my hands apart to represent all the work. He stared at the space between my palms and asked if I played the accordion. I could feel the accordion between my hands and how impressed he would be if I said yes.

You seem incredibly faraway to me, like someone on the other side of a lake. A dot so small that it isn't male or female or young or old; it is just smiling.