Imagination Quotes - Page 17

Luck and nature shapes our imagination.

…the imagination of nature is far, far greater than the imagination of man.

Today, make time to play.

I possess a gorgeous world.
I created it and painted it like a five
years old, where the sky is woven
with golden threads and the sun is
pearl white.
But alas! You can't observe it as they
are positioned inside my mind my
imaginations...

But when on shore, & wandering in the sublime forests, surrounded by views more gorgeous than even Claude ever imagined, I enjoy a delight which none but those who have experienced it can understand - If it is to be done, it must be by studying Humboldt.

The forces of the sea give rise to imagination, which reflects them according to the nature and disposition of the perceiver. The sea itself is undifferentiated and without bias.

The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it.

Looking back, I guess I used to play-act all the time. For one thing, it meant I could live in a more interesting world than the one around me.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.

Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

When we are no longer children we are already dead

It is frightfully difficult to know much about the fairies, and almost the only thing for certain is that there are fairies wherever there are children.

Where do you get dreams like this?

All real fantasy is serious. Only faked fantasy is not serious. That is why it is so wrong to impose faked fantasy on children....

But see, that's the thing about movies. Nothing is left to the imagination. You read a book, and you see a picture of the characters and the scenes in your mind. You don't have that with a movie. It's all either up there on the screen laid out for you, or it isn't there at all.

Close your senses and the imagination comes alive. It's inside us al, dulled by endless television reruns and by a society that reins in fantasy as something not to be trusted, something to be purged. But it's in there, deep inside, a spark waiting to set a touch-paper alight.

Imagination shrinks from the consequences.

A word is a small song.

Leaves lift trees.

The (children's) book is a specimen of the most scandalous escapism: it paints a happiness under incompatible conditions – the sort of freedom we can have only in childhood and the sort we can have only in maturity – and conceals the contradiction by the further pretense that the characters are not human beings at all.