Quotes About Imagination

I can only hope, as I offer my world on a platter filled with allusions.

Coloring excited him, not the act of filling in space, but choosing colors that no one else would select. In the green of the hills he saw red. Purple snow, green skin, silver sun. He liked the effect it had on others, that it disturbed his siblings.

But the urge to express myself was my strongest desire, and my siblings were my first eager coconspirators in the harvesting of my imagination

I have been afraid all my life that I am going to die. All my life it has been stuffed in my imagination.

We support all actions that lead to the joy, the fun, the reward, the challenge, and the adventure of reading.

Is that a ukulele?" I ask. We stop and listen closely. "Actually," says Elena, "it's a bunch of ukuleles.

The more strikingly visual your presentation is, the more people will remember it.

Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour films, music, books, paintings, poems, photographs, conversations, dreams, trees, architecture, street signs, clouds, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work will be authentic.

Experience is the opposite of being creative.

When a person is lucky enough to live inside a story, to live inside an imaginary world, the pains of this world disappear. For as long as the story goes on, reality no longer exists.

And that's why books are never going to die. It's impossible. It's the only time we really go into the mind of a stranger, and we find our common humanity doing this. So the book doesn't only belong to the writer, it belongs to the reader as well, and then together you make it what it is.

Libraries aren't in the real world, after all. They're places apart, sanctuaries of pure thought. In this way I can go on living on the moon for the rest of my life.

One should never underestimate the power of books.

We all want to believe in impossible things, I suppose, to persuade ourselves that miracles can happen.

Surely it is an odd way to spend your life - sitting alone in a room with a pen in your hand, hour after hour, day after day, year after year, struggling to put words on pieces of paper in order to give birth to what does not exist, except in your head. Why on earth would anyone want to do such a thing? The only answer I have ever been able to come up with is: because you have to, because you have no choice.

Escaping into a film is not like escaping into a book. Books force you to give something back to them, to exercise your intelligence and imagination, where as you can watch a film-and even enjoy it-in a state of mindless passivity.

I've been trying to fit everything in, trying to get to the end before it's too late, but I see now how badly I've deceived myself. Words do not allow such things. The closer you come to the end, the more there is to say. The end is only imaginary, a destination you invent to keep yourself going, but a point comes when you realize you will never get there. You might have to stop, but that is only because you have run out of time. You stop, but that does not mean you have come to an end.

Just think it, and chances are it will happen.

An unreal world was much bigger than a real world, and there was more than enough room in it to be yourself and not yourself at the same time.

As long as there's one person to believe it, there's no story that can't be true.

Paintings. Or the collapse of time in images.

As long as you are dreaming, there is always a way out

I learned that books are never finished, that it is possible for stories to go on writing themselves without an author.

I was in the book, and the book was in my head, and as long as I stayed inside my head, I could go on writing the book. It was like living in a padded cell, but of all the lives I could have lived at that moment, it was the only one that made sense to me. I wasn't capable of being in the world, and I knew that if I tried to go back into it before I was ready, I would be crushed.