Quotes About Imagination

You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.

When the lyrical muse sings the creative pen dances.

When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry, he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present, and where visions shape the present into extraordinary possibilities for the future

Why, my good man, thou hast the curiosity of a girl. Who could have believed, that only a slight hint would have set thy imagination agog in such a manner. And a fine encouragement I have to unravel the mystery as thou callest it. Nothing less, truly, than to be told something to my disadvantage. What an excellent reward that will be! In what court of justice didst thou learn that equity?

Nothing is wasted when you are a writer. The stuff that doesn't work has to be written to make way for the stuff that might;

but they were writers and writers suggest things just to see what happens next.

I was a great dreamer of day dreams.

Life is much shorter than I imagined it to be.

What is it to be rich toward God? To understand this, imagine for a moment everything you call yours in the world as taken from you. Picture yourself abandoned and forgotten of all, in utter isolation alone with your own heart. And then ask yourself: What have I now? What do I now possess?

Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives!

He had so many ways of climbing into the tree house in his head, escaping the madness below, and pulling the ladder up behind him...

The reader, knowing nothing about the 'dark continent,' filled in the blanks. Pictured Stone in a tent, kerosene lamp held up by a Hottentot providing the only light, elephants stampeding outside while the good doctor recited Cicero and excised part of himself as blithely as if he were cutting for stone on the body of another.

Koshy Saar's response is indignant. "It's fiction! Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives!

telling herself stories about herself in a singsong voice, creating her own mythology.

One thing I know, I love to learn. I love literature. With these books I can sail the seven seas, chase a white whale . . .

Out of his pen he was spinning gold.

I remembered... how the dust motes dancing in the morning rays formed their own galaxy. When I was a child, that sight had hinted at the wonderful and frightening complexity of the university, of how the closer one looked the more one saw revealed, and on'es imagination was the only limit.

But for a four-year-old, everything is sacred and ordinary.

It's fiction! Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives!

Rune, smiling, reenters the illusion that is the world.

Big Ammachi wants Philipose to ask Koshy Saar if this Moby-Dick isn't all made up. "It's entertaining. But isn't it one big lie? Ask him." Koshy Saar's response is indignant. "It's fiction! Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives!

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.

The sun pressed down on his eyelids, a hot illumination that would soon make him feel drowsy. This must be the way blind people absorbed light into their heads: raising their faces to the sun, to Ra, god of the blind. Everyone needed real light, not just the artificial, thought-up light of the imagination.

looking at the poems of John Gray when I saw the tiniest rivulet of text meandering through the very largest meadow of margin, I suggested to Oscar Wilde that he should go a step further than these minor poets; he should publish a book all margin; full of beautiful, unwritten thoughts.