Quotes About Imagination

The great imaginative artists have always sailed in the wind's eye, and brought back with them words or sounds or images to counterbalance human woes. That they themselves were subject to more than their fair share of these woes deserves our appreciation, understanding, and very careful thought.

I am Eloise. I am six. I live at the Plaza hotel.

And charge it please.

Memory is quite central for me. Part of it is that I like the actual texture of writing through memory...

I think of my pile of old paperbacks, their pages gone wobbly, like they'd once belonged to the sea.

An artist's concern is to capture beauty wherever he finds it.

I was thinking about the rubbish, the flapping plastic in the branches, the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing, and I half closed my eyes and imaginated this was the spot where everything I'd ever lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing here in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until I'd see it was Tommy, and he'd wave, maybe even call.

I think of my pile of old paperbacks, their pages gone wobbly, like they'd once belonged to the sea.

Because whatever the song was really about, in my head, when I was dancing, I had my own version. You see, I imagined it was about this woman who'd been told she couldn't have babies. But then she'd had one, and she was so pleased, and she was holding it ever so tightly to her breast, really afraid something might separate them, and she's going baby, baby, never let me go.

and I half-closed my eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything I'd ever lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing here in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until I'd see it was Tommy, and he'd wave, maybe even call.

pictures, poetry, all that kind of stuff, she said they revealed what you were like inside. She said they revealed your soul.

She told Roy that things like pictures, poetry, all that kind of stuff, she said they revealed what you were like inside. She said they revealed your soul.

Tommy, you don't seem very pleased for me," I said, though in an obviously jokey voice. "I am pleased for you, Kath. It's just that, well, I wish I'd found it." Then he did a small laugh and went on: "Back then, when you lost it, I used to think about it, in my head, what it would be like, if I found it and brought it to you. What you'd say, your face, all of that.

If you make them tiny, and you have to because the pages are only about this big, then everything changes. It's like they come to life by themselves. Then you have to draw in all these different details for them. You have to think about how they'd protect themselves, how they'd reach things.

Çöpleri, dallara tak?lm?? sallanan naylon parçalar?n?, tel örgüye tak?lm?? tuhaf ÅŸeylerin oluÅŸturduÄŸu hatt? düÅŸünüyordum ve gözlerimi k?s?p çocukluÄŸumdan bu yana kaybettiÄŸim her ÅŸeyin buraya sürüklendiÄŸini hayal ettim, ÅŸimdi burada, hepsinin önünde duruyordum ve yeterince beklersem, tarlalar?n ötesinde, ufuk hatt?nda ufac?k bir figür belirecekti.

ama küçük arabama binince, bir kaç saat boyunca sadece yollar, geniÅŸ, gri gökyüzü ve hayallerimle baÅŸ baÅŸa kalmay? seviyorum.

I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if the Almighty had created us all as – well – as sort of plants. You know, firmly embedded in the soil. Then none of this rot about wars and boundaries would have come up in the first place.

What this all amounted to was that as I was growing up, long before I'd ever thought to create fictional worlds in prose, I was busily constructing in my mind a richly detailed place called 'Japan' – a place to which I in some way belonged, and from which I drew a certain sense of my identity and my confidence.

Why write a novel if it was going to offer more or less the same experience someone could get by turning on a television?

your use of color is more like, well, a pond on a summer's evening. You do beautiful things with color, Josie. Things no one else even thought about.' 'Mom. People's children's pictures always look that way to them. Something to do with the evolutionary process.

My imagination came alive when I moved away from the immediate world around me.

It seems increasingly likely that I really will undertake the expedition that has been preoccupying my imagination now for some days.

I tried to imagine me and Rosa getting so angry with each other we would start to fight like that, actually trying to damage each other's bodies. The idea seemed ridiculous, but I'd seen the taxi drivers, so I tried to find the beginnings of such a feeling in my mind. It was useless, though, and I'd always end up laughing at my own thoughts.

I found something Simon said as he walked in. He whipped out an old-fashioned key from his pocket and grinned at me. It was taped to the back of my dresser drawer. What do you think? Buried treasure? Secret passageway? Locked room where they keep crazy old Aunt Edna? It probaly unlocks another dresser, Tori said. One they threw out fifty years ago. Its tragic, being born without an imagination. Do they hold telethons for that?