Quotes About Imagination

playground studded with one of those

Mary Lovell's Straight On Till Morning: The Life of Beryl Markham was the first biography to bring Beryl to light, in 1987, and her pioneering efforts and careful research have been crucial to my own and other writers' abilities to imagine Beryl's life. Mary Lovell also compiled Beryl Markham's stories in The Splendid Outcast, a collection that wouldn't have been available otherwise, and for that

The small child walks to develop his powers, he is building up his being. He goes slowly. He has neither rhythmic step nor goal. But things around him allure him and urge him forward.

Adults are always asking little kids what they want to be when they grow up because they're looking for ideas.

Adults are always asking children what they want to be when they grow up because they're looking for ideas.

Adults are always asking little kids what they want to be when they grow up 'cause they're looking for ideas.

Adults are always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up because they are looking for ideas.

If you put frightening things into a picture then they can't harm you. If fact, you end becoming quite fond of them.

Art is the only place you can do what you like. That's freedom.

My work is play. And I play when I design. I even looked it up in the dictionary, to make sure that I actually do that, and the definition of 'play,' number one, was 'engaging in a childlike activity or endeavor,' and number two was 'gambling.' And I realize I do both when I'm designing.

He knew that he did not play music so much as walk into it, as if into a palace of great riches, with rooms opening into other rooms, which opened into still other rooms, and in these rooms were courtyards and fountains with passageways to yet more mysterious spaces of melody

It was in this way he asked people to enter another realm of the mind. Places far away, and mysterious, brought to them by details which they did not understand but which entranced them.

so he proceeded with great caution into an alien landscape of the mind and the mind's eye.

He knew that he did not play music so much as walk into it, as if into a palace of great riches, with rooms opening into other rooms, which opened into still other rooms, and in these rooms were courtyards and fountains with passageways to yet more mysterious spaces of melody, peculiar intervals, unheard notes.

She had been laced into a thing that she could only imagine was for magical purposes, meant to confine her heart and her breath in a sort of cage to hold her forever like a shut fist that would never open.

It is the fate of all authors to create imaginary friends, and lose them in the course of art. Nor is this the full extent of their misfortunes; for they are required to furnish an account of them besides." And

We spend our lives in worlds remote from one another. We imagine we all live together on this round earth but we do not." Samuel

Fantaseamos lo que no entendemos...Las situaciones que menos se comprenden excitan el inconsciente

This could be a dream,' Phase II said, 'Not one that wakes you up in a panic, but one that makes you never want to wake up at all

Bonnie saw ropes hanging loose, poles falling away, tree-tops sinking beneath her. As they rose, the sun rose with them. Its warmth turned the dark skin of the fiery balloon midnight blue. They flew straight up. Above them, the sweet, clear music of the lonely pipe called to them. Then the smooth sky puckered into cloth-of-blue and drew aside. They passed straight through...

Would she ever dare tell him that no pleasure, no joy, no figment of her imagination could ever compete with the happiness she felt at the way he used her with such utter freedom, at the notion that he could do anything with her, that there was no limit, no restriction in the manner with which, on her body, he might search for pleasure?

Tatiana had imagined her Alexander since she was a child, before she believed that someone like him was even possible. When she was a little girl, she dreamed of a fine world in which a good man walked its winding roads, perhaps somewhere in his wandering soul searching for her.

Paulo represented for those of us who are committed to imagine a world, in his own words, that is less ugly, more beautiful, less discriminatory, more democratic, less dehumanizing, and more humane.

Escrevo. E pronto. Escrevo porque preciso, preciso porque estou tonto. Ninguém tem nada com isso. Escrevo porque amanhece e as estrelas lá no céu lembram letras no papel, quando o poema me anoitece. A aranha tece teias. O peixe beija e morde o que vê. Eu escrevo apenas. Tem que ter por quê?