Quotes About Imagination

childlike intuition, free play, and body movement were integral to his creative thinking.

Gyerekfejjel Joan meg én külön világot teremtettünk magunknak, szembeszegülve azzal, amit most feln?ttként lelki szegénységnek nevezek. A lelki szegények szüntelen gyanakvással tekintenek mindenre, ami eltér az átlagtól, ismeretlen vagy nem általánosan elfogadott; azontúl minden, ami nem jár gyakorlati haszonnal, ugyancsak elvetend? a szemükben.

We are too young to realise that certain things are impossible.

Limits exist only in the souls of those who don't dream.

The poet's darling.

Huge and mighty forms that do not live like living men, moved slowly through the mind by day and were trouble to my dreams.

Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene, The work of Fancy, or some happy tone Of meditation, slipping in between The beauty coming and the beauty gone

An ampler ether, a diviner air.

Where the statue stoodOf Newton with his prism and silent face,The marble index of a mind foreverVoyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great or original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.

Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science.

The light that never was, on sea or land,The consecration, and the poet's dream.

Great God! I'd rather beA pagan suckled in a creed outworn;So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o'er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils.

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills...

Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings.

The mind of man is a thousand times more beautiful than the earth on which he dwells.

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills When all at once I saw a crowd A host of golden daffodils Beside the lake beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge

In sleep I heard the northern gleams; The stars they were among my dreams; In sleep did I behold the skies

Every great and original writer, in proportion as he is great and original, must himself create the taste by which he is to be relished.

Go to the poets, they will speak to thee More perfectly of purer creatures--

Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Our meddlesome intellect misshapen the beauteous form of things.