Best 4697 quotes in «imagination quotes» category

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    She'd never been thanked, let alone HUGGED, after telling a lie. But maybe she hadn't lied at all. Maybe it wasn't lying as much as it was applying some imagination. Looking at something from a different angle. That wasn't such a bad thing.

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    (She) didn't believe in resilience. She believed in imagination.

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    She had horses who were the blue air of the sky.

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    She found herself imagining them hanging out in the backyard having barbecues and sitting together on the swing. The idea made her smile, although she kept it to herself.

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    She liked the way the words sounded. She imagined them floating above her in a comic-strip bubble

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    She lost touch with reality and was dragged into her imagination.

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    She opened her eyes slowly and saw that a pale lavender moth had come to a rest on the back of her hand. She watched it from her pillow, wondering if it was real. It reminded her of her husband Matt's favorite T-shirt, which she'd hidden in a bag of sewing, unable to throw it away. It had a large faded moth on the front, the logo of a cover band out of Athens called the Mothballs. That T-shirt, that moth, always brought back a strange memory of when she was a child. She used to draw tattoos of butterflies on her arms with Magic Markers. She would give them names, talk to them, carefully fill in their colors when they started to fade. When the time came that they wanted to be set free, she would blow on them and they would come to life, peeling away from her skin and flying away.

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    She told me "I am happy you exist. In real or in imagination. A person like you would always exist in my mind. You came into my life and that is enough for a lifetime!

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    She has no memories of her mother but imagines her as white, a soundless brilliance. Her father radiates a thousand colors, opal, strawberry red, deep russet, wild green; a smell like oil and metal, the feel of a lock tumbler sliding home, the sound of his key rings chiming as he walks.

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    She was an ocean full of storms and sailing in her would have made him lose his path forever. But he was not ready to give up without taking that risk. He set his sail and kept moving into the heart of the ocean until she calmed down. And once the storm was over all he saw was a place that no one could imagine and nobody had ever reached. And in the end the journey was worth it.

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    show me your eyes and i should tell who you are and what would your future

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    She held up the pen and gave him a lazy grin. "It's a rose." He came close. "It's a pen." He tried to pluck it from her hand. "You are seriously lacking in imagination.

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    She was a pixie, a fairy, full of imagination and in another world.

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    Sixty years is too brief a compass for man’s imagination. The incomplete joys of this world can never satisfy his heart.

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    Small boys often produce their own plays; but usually the parts are not written out. They hardly need to be, for the main line of each character is always "Stick 'em up!" In these plays the curtain is always rung down on a set of corpses, for small boys are by nature through and uncompromising.

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    Since it doesn't cost a dime to dream, you'll never short change yourself when you stretch your imagination.

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    Sleeping beauty awoke at the kiss of a scientist and expired at the fatal puncture of his syringe.

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    Smiling is not a choice It’s a Lifestyle Pass it on

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    Sky-bound was the mind, Earth-bound the body rests

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    So... are you also chasing butterflies?

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    So don't be too fast to attribute yourself with miraculous sexual powers, The Christ of Love. Emma and I created you out of nothing, or very little, and in all fairness, You owe us everything. While you flounder in your daily life we have built you up as a truly powerful icon of erotic integrity.

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    So [in mathematics] we get to play and imagine whatever we want and make patterns and ask questions about them. But how do we answer these questions? It’s not at all like science. There’s no experiment I can do ... The only way to get at the truth about our imaginations is to use our imaginations, and that is hard work.

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    So learn a lesson – don’t project worlds. They create frustrations and misery and anguish. Just live this moment, that’s all. Then wait, and when the next moment comes we will see.

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    Solitude with God is a place for pregnancy. Solitude is also a place to receive great ideas and creative ideas from God. The power of imagination is strongest in the place of solitude.

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    Some days I spent up to three hours in the arcade after school, dimly aware that we were the first people, ever, to be doing these things. We were feeling something they never had - a physical link into the world of the fictional - through the skeletal muscles of the arm to the joystick to the tiny person on the screen, a person in an imagined world. It was crude but real. We'd fashioned an outpost in the hostile, inaccessible world of the imagination, like dangling a bathysphere into the crushing dark of the deep ocean, a realm hitherto inaccessible to humankind. This is what games had become. Computers had their origin in military cryptography - in a sense, every computer game represents the commandeering of a military code-breaking apparatus for purposes of human expression. We'd done that, taken that idea and turned it into a thing its creators never imagined, our own incandescent mythology.

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    Someone who was just nice didn't remain on your mind an hour after they'd left.

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    Some people are there just for being in imagination even if you know they are walking somewhere on this planet. Thats because they are just too good to exist.

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    Some people spend their whole lives in a fantasy world, and that’s not a good thing!

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    Sometimes we don't want to be tethered to yesterday. It's nicer to forget. Maybe the gaps in our memory are there for a reason, evolutionary perhaps, to give us the space to grow, to get away from childishness or childish things. Or maybe it's so we have the chance to invent, or at least include, some magic in our yesterdays, surely the consolation of getting older, of moving away from youth, is that we can shape our past to our fantasies. So, even if the present isn't going the way we want it, we can stand and remember our earlier selves as exciting and funny and daring

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    Sometimes, without effort, you live in the moment. You don't regret the past or worry about the future, and in that moment everything flashes before your eyes , a clear snapshot of what has to be done, and everything pauses.

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    So many people spend years (and money) studying to be doctors, lawyers, actors, dancers, business executives and scientists - when you're an author, you can be any of these things, and you don't need a degree or certificate; all you need is an imagination, a dream and an open mind.

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    Sometimes an unimaginative mind can imagine the most unimaginable

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    Sometimes even the imagination lets one down.

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    Sometimes even a "Yes" can be fatal for our Souls

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    Sometimes he does talk back, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s not there; and from time to time I believe this was all nothing but imaginary.

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    Sometimes imaginary troubles are harder to bear than actual ones.

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    Sometimes I wonder how much of our suffering we allow or impose on ourselves simply in search of our worthiness to accept our own respect and appreciation. I’d written before some years ago that we often cause suffering in another so that we can then love them, as in, “You have suffered for me, so I can love you now.” The eventual shock of realizing the sacrifice made for you destroys the walls of self-righteousness and protection. The suffering sacrifice of another creates the willingness and capacity to do the same. Finally, love and respect (respect is part of the body of love) come from the recognition of something else already given up for them. Within the individual, you or me, a similar process takes place toward oneself. It is as if we know some- where that we are not worthy of our own love or respect until we have earned the right to it, and that is mainly through some kind of suffering. That suffering may be generic, as in a life lived in which tragedy after tragedy accumulate, or it may be specific, as in the constant sacrifice of other easier things for a being or vision. Or, perhaps more correctly, it is either consciously chosen or not.

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    Sometimes I wonder how much of our suffering we allow or impose on ourselves simply in search of our worthiness to accept our own respect and appreciation.

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    Sometimes life is like living in a chamber of Liquid Oxygen. Liquid don't allow you to live and Oxygen don't let you die.

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    Sometimes our worst fears aren't realized - though in my experience it's only to make room for the fears our imagination was insufficient to house.

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    Sometimes one's imagination can be more beautiful than the most picturesque beach.

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    So rapid is the flight of dreams upon the wings of imagination.

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    Sometimes the things in our heads are far worse than anything they could put in books or on film!!

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    So much of love is imagination -- its over-activity, its over-ambition, its over-the-top faith.

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    so that it isn't upsetting to anybody. It's something we've always known about fairy tales – they talk about incest, the Oedipus complex, about psychotic mothers, like those of Snow White and Hansel and Gretel, who throw their children out. They tell things about life which children know instinctively, and the pleasure and relief lie in finding these things expressed in language that children can live with. You can't eradicate these feelings – they exist and they're a great source of creative inspiration.

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    Spring invites us into a fairy land of imagination where flowers bloom with joy, butterflies fly with song, and love dances with love.

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    Spinoza follows Maimonides in rejecting the ordinary meanings which attach to words, and in asking his readers to attend, not to language, but to the ‘ideas’ which he is attempting to convey by means of it. Common usage is governed by the imagination, which associates words, not with clear and distinct ideas, but with the confused conceptions of experience. In the language of imagination nothing can be truly described, and nothing is more misleadingly rendered by the imagination than the ultimate subject matter of philosophical speculation – God himself

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    Speculative fiction both requires and rewards an open mind.

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    Stand at the top of a cliff and jump off and build your wings on the way down.

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    Stay upbeat and keep your head held high. There is no end to the power of positive thinking. I AM looking forward to all the wealth, success, and abundance speeding my way!