Quotes About Imagination

She told him of ship voyages she had taken to places he had never heard of, and stories he knew were all untrue, were bad not-truths, even, but he nodded, and tried to convince himself to be convinced, tried to believe her, because he knew that the origin of the story is always an absence and he wanted to live among presences.

maybe great books were coiled within him like springs, books that could have separated inside from outside.

It's just that sometimes we make things up just to talk

I was thankful, said my father, for the make-believe.

I'd write Ha ha ha! and instead of singing in the shower I would write out the lyrics of my favorite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs (..)

What about the teakettle? What if the spout opened and closed when the steam came out, so it would become a mouth, and it could whistle pretty melodies, or do Shakespeare, or just crack up with me.

And instead of singing in the shower I would write out the lyrics of my favorite songs, the ink would turn the water blue or red or green, and the music would run down my legs.

Did you manufacture any Z's?

Wings of a half finished book across his chest.

And I love the idea of books being more than books, or being, rather, something other than books. I think the ideal experience of my book would be like listening to music.

What's so great about feeling and dreaming?

Objects that don't exist don't exist. If we were to imagine such a thing as an object that didn't exist, it would be that thing that God hated. This is the strongest argument against the nonbeliever. If God didn't exist, he would have to hate himself, and that is obviously nonsense.

I think this is why I relish writing for you so much. It makes it possible for me to be not like I am, but as I desire for Little Igor to see me. I can be funny, because I have time to meditate about how to be funny, and I can repair my mistakes when I perform mistakes, and I can be a melancholy person in matters that are interesting, not only melancholy. When writing, we have second chances

The floors were like marble chessboards, and the ceilings were like cakes.

desperately knocking against the blind little world, i loosened one of its planks, opening a window to a new, wider world. There, spread out, was a profusion of geography, of atmosphere, of full empty air.

I started inventing things, and then I couldn't stop, like beavers, which I know about. People think they cut down trees so they can build dams, but in reality it's because their teeth never stop growing, and if they didn't constantly file them down by cutting through all of those trees, their teeth would start to grow into their own faces, which would kill them. That's how my brain was.

will describe my eyes and then begin the story. My eyes are blue and resplendent. Now I will begin the story.

And by midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else.

She told him of ship voyages she had taken to places he had never heard of, and stories he knew were all untrue, were bad non-truths, even, but he nodded and tried to convince himself to be convinced, tried to believe her, because he knew that the origin of a story is always an absence, and he wanted her to live among presences.

I think that this is why I relish writing for you so much. It makes it possible for me to be not like I am, but as I desire for Little Igor to see me. I can be funny, because I have time to meditate about how to be funny, and I can repair my mistakes when I perform mistakes, and I can be a melancholy person in manners that are interesting, not only melancholy. With writing, we have second chances.

As we drove, I imagined we were standing still and the world was coming toward us.

And I love the idea of books being more than books, or being, rather, something other than books. I think the ideal experience of my book would be like listening to music. And I love the idea of books being more than books, or being, rather, something other than books. I think the ideal experience of my book would be like listening to music.

Cartile sunt pentru aceia care nu au vieti adevarate.

If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it heavy walls.