Quotes About Imagination

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I am only 8 years old, I told myself. No little boy of 8 has ever murdered anyone. It's not possible.

There are a whole lot of things in this world of ours you haven't even started wondering about yet.

Rainbow drops - suck them and you can spit in six different colours.

When you're old enough to write a book for children, by then you'll have become a grown up and have lost all your jokeyness. Unless you're an undeveloped adult and still have an enormous amount of childishness in you.

Dreams is full of mystery and magic . . . . Do not try to understand them.

Oh, books, what books they used to know, Those children living long ago! So please, oh please, we beg, we pray, Go throw your TV set away, And in its place you can install A lovely bookshelf on the wall.

Mr Hemingway says a lot of things I don't understand, Matilda said to her. 'Especially about men and women. But I loved it all the same. The way he tells it I feel I am right there on the spot watching it all happen.' 'A fine writer will always make you feel that,' Mrs Phelps said . 'And don't worry about the bits you can't understand. Sit back and allow the words to wash around you, like music.

Those who don't believe in magic will never find it

I libri le aprivano mondi nuovi e le facevano conoscere persone straordinarie che vivevano una vita piena di avventure. Viaggiava su antichi velieri con Joseph Conrad. Andava in Africa con Ernest Hemingway e in India con Kipling. Girava il mondo restando seduta nella sua stanza, in un villaggio inglese.

So Matilda's strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea.

It was pleasant to take a hot drink up to her room and have it beside her as she sat in her silent room reading in the empty house in the afternoons. The books transported her into new worlds and introduced her to amazing people who lived exciting lives.

For me, the pleasure of writing comes with inventing stories.

You'll never get anywhere if you go about what-iffing like that.

Sometimes, on a very clear night,' the BFG said, 'and if I is swiggling my ears in the right direction' – and here he swivelled his great ears upwards so they were facing the ceiling – 'if I is swiggling them like this and the night is very clear, I is sometimes hearing faraway music coming from the stars in the sky.' A queer little shiver passed through Sophie's body. She sat very quiet, waiting for more.

She travelled all over the world while sitting in her little room in an English village.

Never grow up...always down.

This allowed her two glorious hours sitting quietly by herself in a cozy corner, devouring one book after another. When she had read every single children's book in the place, she started wandering round in search of something else.

Yesterday, he said, we was not believing in giants, was we? Today we is not believing in snozzcumbers. Just because we happen not to have actually seen something with our own two little winkles, we think it is not existing.

A little nonsense now and then, is relished by the wisest men," Mr. Wonka said.

Well, first of all, said the BFG, human beans is not really believing in giants, is they? Human beans is not thinking we exist.

Sophie took the book out of his hand. 'Nicholas Nickleby,' she read aloud. 'By Dahl's Chickens,' the BFG said. 'By who?' Sophie said.

When you're writing, it's rather like going on a very long walk

There are a whole lot of things in this world of ours you haven't started wondering about yet.