Quotes About Imagination

If he took you camping after he died, my boy, then you would have a story to tell!

Snuffleupagus was real. No

Zen in the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury

her own hand a candelabra of gold flame.

The road to Christmasland is paved in dreams!

E se ter um porto seguro perfeito com o qual sonhar acordado é bom para elas, o que tem de errado nisso?

and the doors to Mid-World

If you drive to the end of Little Harbor Road, in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, it will take you to the ocean, but you won't find the sandy lane to Camp Wyndham. I made the place up. Many other features of the area, however, are much as I presented them: South Street Cemetery, South Mill Pond, the Piscataqua Bridge. Here and there I have changed features to suit the needs of the story.

Thoughts flashed by, like cards glimpsed as the dealer shuffles the deck.

She had all his savage powers of logic. It made a person feel naive and childish for imagining there could be any good in the world at all.

She was a cartoonist, not an engineer; reality could get stuffed.

Mostly the real world s-s-s-suh-sucks. But everyone also lives in the world inside their own head. An inscape, a world of thought. In a world made of thought—in an inscape—every idea is a fact. Emotions are as real as gravity. Dreams are as powerful as history. Creative people, like writers, and Henry Rollins, spend a lot of their time hanging out in their thoughtworld.

Left one for you, kiddo, he imagined the fat man telling him. Marshall's skull grinned with small, sharp, slanting teeth. Might come in handy. You never know. In another couple days, when you're too weak to stand, it might be just what the doctor ordered. Swallow one as needed for pain and call me never.

The aspiring novelist in me wants a secret tunnel hidden behind a false wall, or a poster of a famous movie star, or

Sometimes I think every man wants to be a writer. They want to invent a world with the perfect imaginary woman, someone they can boss around and undress at will. They can work out their own aggression with a few fictional rape scenes. Then they can send their fictional surrogate in to save her, a white knight—or a fireman! Someone with all the power and all the agency. Real women, on the other hand, have all these tiresome interests of their own, and won't follow an outline.

I want that on my gravestone. Snuffleupagus was real. No more. Just that.

asleep, her eyes partly shut as she tramped across the dew-soaked grass. Today she had on a thick white fluffy cap with

My father says Alamagüselum lives in the walls and drinks tears.

Science Fiction stories are the dazzling flares we launch into the darkness, to catch a glimpse of the country before us and show us our way.

The imagination is our final advantage as a species, a place to safely (and happily) explore experiences that are far from safe and far from happy. "Dracula" and "The Fly" may delight and appall in equal measure, but they also gently prepare us, helping us to think about how we would respond if faced with a terrifying seduction, or a corrupted and infected body.

She would send me pictures of the sky, big blue western skies with little lumps of white cloud in them, and she'd write: The cloud in the middle is my pet unicorn. Or: That cloud over the mountains is you hiding under a sheet. Once she sent me a picture of a mountain pool, a cloud reflected in it as if it were a mile-wide mirror, and texted: I want to hold you like the water holds the sky.

Susannah had a toy stethoscope, which she would press to his head, in an attempt to listen in on his thoughts.

a dream is welded to a dreamer's heart and has the potential of stirring up the deepest part of a human heart.

You've got to have dreams. If you don't continue to have dreams, then you're only defeating yourself. If you continue to follow your dreams, you're going to succeed.