Quotes About Imagination

She'd been to Narnia, Wonderland, Hogwarts, Dictionopolis. She had tessered, fallen through the rabbit hole, crossed the ice bridge into the unknown world beyond.

Jack was the only person she knew with an imagination, at least a real one. The only tea parties he'd have were ones in Wonderland, or the Arctic, or in the darkest reaches of space. He was the only person who saw things for what they could be instead of just what they were. He saw what lived beyond the edges of the things your eyes took in. And though they eventually grew out of Wonderland Arctic space-people tea parties, that essential thing remained the same. Hazel fit with Jack.

It was a beautiful lie that they had all been telling themselves—that you could have magic without monsters.

Hazel understood. Being grown up meant doing what grown-ups wanted you to do. it meant sacrificing your imagination for rules. It meant sitting quietly in you chair while your best friend is helicoptered off for emergency eye surgery. It meant letting people say whatever they wanted to you.

He remembered that part like you'd remember a story someone told to you once, like you might nod in sympathy but it wasn't like it happened to you.

Someone who thinks of possessing a fountain made of a winged baby with water shooting out of its mouth must not have too many troubles.

she wore weird baggy clothes and seemed like the sort of person who might tesser in some dark and stormy night.

Something stirred inside her, some urge to plunge into the new white world and see what it had to offer. It was like she'd walked out of a dusty old wardrobe and found Narnia.

CHAPTER 1 Charlotte

Oscar grabbed on to the words and held them.

I identify with all the Grimm fairy-tale girls, every single one. I always have. Those were the only stories I understood and the only stories I kneew how to tell. I did not know there were other possibilitiees.

this is a magical land where every one of you can find exactly the book you need at any given time—even if you don't know you need it. Every one of you can find the book that will change your life.

Now, the world is more than it seems to be. You know this, of course, because you read stories.

the small garden was just a slip of earth on the side of the house, bit it seemed like its own universe. The sweet, sharp scent of hundreds of flowers greeted her. Even in the night their colors sang it was a thick, lush blanket of color- luxurious purple and electric blue and sunshine yellow and cheery red. It was like a movie version of an enchanted harden, gorgeous, vivid, and too beautiful to be real. She could dive into the purple of the violets and live there.

For if you no longer have a future, what else is there left but dreams of the past?

Wheeler, P., and H. E. Rives. Dome of Many-Coloured Glass. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1955.

If you no longer had a future, what else is there left but dreams of the past?

Tu avais raison, lui dit-elle, l'Elgolie n'existe pas. Pas comme je le croyais, en tout cas. Mais je n'ai renoncé à rien. J'ai décidé de faire de la Galnicie une sorte d'Elgolie à ma façon. Qu'en penses-tu ? — Te connaissant, répondit Filomène avec un large sourire, je pense... que tu es parfaitement capable d'y arriver, Princetta !

Writers' closest companions are inside their heads.

Whatever dreams I have wished have come true.

Annie Barrows

bottom of the sea," whispered Ivy. Bean

Annie Barrows

Bean looked up into the sky. What if someone was watching her through a giant magnifying glass and thinking the same thing she was? What if she was as small as an ant compared to that someone? And what if that someone was an ant compared to the next world after that? Wow. Bean waved at the sky. Hi out there, she thought.