Best 4697 quotes in «imagination quotes» category

Whenever you play in the imaginative realm, you heighten your sensitivity to the supernal.

When God broke his deal with me, I turned to the Devil. In the end, I wasn't happy. I realized that the imagination of a perfect being was more limited than that of the imperfect one. Color me unimpressed by the Actus Purus.

When God created each of us, he tucked a little bit of his divine imagination into our souls. He did this, I think, so that we can conceive of the fact that our world contains so much more than we can see, feel, and touch.

When I am alone, I drink my tea with pinkie raised, like a kid playing "tea party." At times, a fancy British accent is involved. Dahling!

When ideas evaporate, when shapes fade and forms lose their integrity, our imagination can create an outlandish setting and convert everything into a hazy, misty Turner landscape. ("Back garden of a dream")

When imagination comes in action, creative things are likely to happen

When imagination fails, compassion and humaneness dwindle and atrophy along with it. Unleavened by imagination, the variety and richness of life turn into flat abstractions; people become objects to be manipulated -- with the social consequences we know all too well.

When imagination changes from hoping to knowing, it makes things real.

When I read a book, I put in all the imagination I can, so that it is almost like writing the book as well as reading it - or rather, it is like living it. It makes reading so much more exciting, but I don't suppose many people try to do it.

When I read, my mind had the tendency to wander around, embroiling itself in the common points between the plots and my life, feeling empathy for the characters' inner struggles, almost as if they were merging with my personal conflicts.

When Inspiration and imagination meet, words smile at us.

When it’s my turn, I fill my plate with rice, shami kabob, lentils, and butter chicken, skipping the cauliflower and salad, and pile the naan high before carefully carrying it downstairs to the basement. Rabiya, Yusuf, and the other kids are already camped in front of the TV with their food. Mustafa joins a few minutes later, plopping down on our beat-up leather sofa next to Yusuf. “There’s nothing good on,” Yusuf announces after flipping through all the channels. “Isn’t there a basketball game?” Mustafa asks. “Nooo!” Rabiya whines. “I want SpongeBob,” a little boy named Jamal says, chewing on a piece of naan. “How about we tell scary stories?” Yusuf suggests. “No way,” Rabiya refuses. “Last time I had nightmares for days.” I agree. Yusuf tells the scariest stories ever. The worst one was about severed hands of bodies that were dug up from graves. The hands came to life and would tickle people to death. I still think about that whenever we pass a graveyard.

When it comes to terror, reality’s got nothing on the power of the imagination[.]

When I was 30, I used to wonder when I was going to quit playing. Use disorder worry about it. Now, I know I'm never going to quit.

When I was a kid, I imagined flying holding balloons

When I was small, I never wanted to step in puddles. Not because of any fear of drowned worms or wet stockings; I was by and large a grubby child, with a blissful disregard for filth of any kind. It was because I couldn't bring myself believe that that perfect smooth expanse was no more than I thin film of water over solid earth. I believed it was an opening into some fathomless space. Sometimes, seeing the tiny ripples caused by my approach, I thought the puddle impossibly deep, a bottomless sea in which the lazy coil of a tentacle and gleam of scale lay hidden, with the threat of huge bodies and sharp teeth adrift and silent in the far-down depths. And then, looking down into reflection, I would see my own round face and frizzled hair against a featureless blue sweep, and think instead that the puddle was the entrance to another sky. If I stepped in there, I would drop at once, and keep on falling, on and on, into blue space. The only time I would dare walk though a puddle was at twilight, when the evening stars came out. If I looked in the water and saw one lighted pinprick there, I could slash through unafraid--for if I should fall into the puddle and on into space, I could grab hold of the star as I passed, and be safe. Even now, when I see a puddle in my path, my mind half-halts--though my feet do not--then hurries on, with only the echo of the though left behind. What if, this time, you fall?

When my turn on the program comes, I am not nervous at all—because all this is happening out of time, out of space. I am, for a moment, a figure of my own fantasy, and I play my appointed role as if I were in the movies.

When no possessions keep us, when no countries contain us, and no time detains us, man becomes a heroic wanderer, and woman, a wanderess.

When people say writers spend a lot of time staring, rather than writing, do not be fooled. A writer does not blankly stare. Instead, she sees everything before her. Millions of plotting paths, endless words to choose from, and every possible outcome. Writers see their world as it is, as it could be; as it will be. And in the end make it as it should be.

When people are facing real hardships in their lives, they have no time to invent imaginary ones.

When people wish for harmony, I wish for chaos. I'd rather see imaginative means of self-destruction, than to see laziness and wasted potential.

When scorching passion only leaves ashes of unfulfilled dreams, hope may entice the sprinkling magic of our imagination into livening up the footlights on a new stage of life. ("Taken for a ride")

When purpose is tough , imagination becomes unshakable.

When the artist leaves a painting on a wall with the full confidence that the mastery of his skill, soul and vision will draw others into its vortex long after he is gone, he is using the grip of seduction. When the musician’s performance, the manipulation of her instrument and the command of her talents are so raw and uninhibited that onlookers feel connected to the cosmos, bridged by the pure genius they are now experiencing, she is using the mystery of seduction. The unexplainable feeling fans get when the athlete ceases to be an athlete and rises to the level of the untouchable magician that can make anything happen, is nothing less than the power of seduction at work. The immense value of seduction is its ability to skillfully allure others into one’s world . . . .

When the ideas or forms we need are banished, we seek their residues wherever we can trace them

When the imagination takes over, the second hand could be the hour hand to a creator of stories.

When there is silence, Give your voice. When there is darkness, Shine your light. When there is desperation, Offer hope.

When the white arm rests upon the knee it is a triangle; now it is upright - a column; now a fountain, falling. It makes no sign, it does not beckon, it does not see us. Behind it roars the sea. It is beyond our reach. Yet there I venture. There I go to replenish my emptiness, to stretch my nights and fill them fuller and fuller with dreams. And for a second even now, even here, I reach my object and say, “Wander no more. All is trial and make-believe. Here is the end.

When (The World According To) Garp was published, people who’d lost children wrote to me. ‘’I lost one, too,’’ they told me. I confessed to them that I hadn’t lost any children. I’m just a father with a good imagination. In my imagination, I lose my children every day. (afterword)

When the writer cannot convince his Super-Ego of the "harmlessness" of his imagination, he has no ideas at all. If however, he clears that hurdle but cannot obtain approval of his (harmless) exhibitionism in "writing it down," he cannot write.

When walking alone in a jungle of true darkness, there are three things that can show you the way: instinct to survive, the knowledge of navigation, creative imagination. Without them, you are lost.

When we are no longer children we are already dead

When we are preoccupied with wealth and material acquisitions, it chokes God's word in us and makes it unfruitful. But if we follow His plan of being prosperous you will enjoy the blessings of this life.

When wisdom comes, transformation comes. Wisdom makes the difference between the succeeding man and the failing man.

When willpower dies, the door of the imagination is reborn; silence dwells in our lives and fills us with love.

When we were that young we invented the world, no one could tell us a thing.

When you are awake, your mind is limited. When you are dreaming, your mind is unlimited. Creation is a genius. The mind is a powerful aspect to reality, but no one can truly tell you what reality is, or how reality should be. You can only tell yourself. However, what if you can tap into your mental functions, and truly blur the line to the point, that whether you are awake or asleep, your mind makes the world real? What's the difference between bending the world in your dream, and bending the world in reality? The truth is, there is no difference, when you live in imagination.

When you are stressed and challenged by hardships just smile through it as frowning won’t help in changing the situation

When young, the humans are all Imagination because Memory is so much smaller a part of their experience, so little of them is grounded in it. As they grow older, however, Memory overtakes their Imagination, outweighs it. But when they pray with ever increasing confidence, they see with an ever-increasing and youthful Imagination and such burgeoning of possibility causes even their Memory to be lightened and redeemed. The scales fall from their eyes and they wait on their Father with the same childlike wonder that watches a sunrise to see what might happen this time.

When you explain an art to someone, you destroy an imagination that was about to catapult in them, and you destroy a place which they were about to build in their mind. Let them see it through their heart without the bounds of time. Through many memories of their life and through the heart, mind, and eyes of their loved ones. Through a mind, that break the constraints of all their thoughts and through the pain, lies, and happiness that they hide inside them. Let them open their wings and get into the portals, which will take each one of them to very different places from the one that you exist.

When you imagine and clearly articulate your goals in writing, you access the creative energy of your right brain. Imagination and creativity allow you to find solutions to problems that were not previously available to you and give your left brain an opportunity to be receptive to new ideas.

When you juice books from a library you are taking the history and imagination that has accumulated over so many years there.

When you're living so intensely in your head there isn't any different between what you imagine and what actually takes place. Therefore, you're both omnipotent and powerless.

When you visualized a man or woman carefully, you could always begin to feel pity – that was a quality God’s image carried with it. When you saw the lines at the corners of the eyes, the shape of the mouth, how the hair grew, it was impossible to hate. Hate was just a failure of imagination.

When your mind is distracted with all these game machines, you become mindless. When you don’t think, your mind becomes blank. You don’t use your imagination anymore. You don’t plan and you stop looking forward. Television can do the same thing if you’re not careful. It can stop you from using your mind. When you stop using your mind, you chug along on the Mindless Express going nowhere. You forget to look at how beautiful the world is. Your energy flows where your attention goes and then drains away until nothing is left. The more you play with machines, the less you play in the world around you. Eventually, your world disappears because you’ve forgotten about it. You wake up one day and find it all gone. It’s too late. You’ve wasted your time on the Mindless Express. You lose your chance to make a difference in the world. Your story never gets told.

Whereas some dwell on the bright side of life, enjoying an exciting spectrum of contingencies, and get all the breaks, others live in the confined inner court of their being, cramped within the fence of their mind. Only imagination may arouse a spark of expectation, stir up resilience and create an equitable prospect.

Where do starfish come from?” asked Sam. “From the sky,” answered Stella. “Starfish are shooting stars that fell in love with the sea.” “Weren’t the stars afraid of drowning?” asked Sam. “No,” said Stella. “They all learned how to swim.

Where do you get dreams like this?

When you see something impossible, this is often because you have a limited imagination!

Where is my oasis? Too far from here for me to crawl with these dead legs, refusing to co-operate Hands and fingers clawing uselessly through the grains of sand...