Best 4697 quotes in «imagination quotes» category

For a scientist must indeed be freely imaginative and yet skeptical, creative and yet a critic. There is a sense in which he must be free, but another in which his thought must be very precisely regimented; there is poetry in science, but also a lot of bookkeeping.

Forcing the muse to let thoughts flow; equals to pushing a child, into labor.

For an instant Harry imagined... Just for an instant, before his imagination blew a fuse and called an emergency shut down and told him never to imagine that again.

For a young man has strong imagination but poor judgment, so that he imagines others to be as big as he is but considers himself to be very small. He has unbounded trust in the universe but is constantly unsure of himself.

For him and his brother, he now knew, that music was real. Becuase all you had to do, really, was be willing to use your imagination. And listen.

For Merleau-Ponty, the phenomenology of the human body, the very phenomenon of the human body, is intimately linked to "the problems of painting": "Things have an internal equivalent in me; they arouse in me a carnal formula of their presence. Why shouldn't these [correspondences] in turn give rise to some [external] visible shape in which anyone else would recognize those motifs which support his own inspection of the world?" Painting brings forth a carnal visuality, an embodied and incarnate image, by establishing the internal equivalent ("in me") of the outside world, which is made of the "same stuff." I am an extension of the world, but the world extends, intensifies, forms a "line of intensity," to use Gilles Deleuze's idiom, inside me. The world forms a "strange system of exchanges" with me; I am constituted in an exchange with the world. Painting makes this continuity visible, is itself the visualization of this continuity, of this blending of the inside and out. Images—"designs" and "paintings"—says Merleau-Ponty, are "the inside of the outside and the outside of the inside, which the duplicity of feeling makes possible and without which we would never understand the quasi presence and imminent visibility which make up the whole problem of the imaginary.

For people never say anything the same way twice; no two of them ever say it the same. The greatest imaginative writer that ever brooded in a lavender robe and a mellowed briar in his teeth, couldn't tell you, though e try for a lifetime, how the simplest strap-hanger will ask the conductor to be let off at the next stop. ... It is all for the taking. All the manuals by frustrated fictioneers on how to write can't give you the first syllable of reality, at any cot, that any common conversation can. All the classics, read and re-read, can't help you catch the ring of truth as does the word heard first-hand.

For the most expensive way to realize an orgasm, men open their wallets. For the cheapest, they close their eyes.

For what does it mean to look at something, a real object in the real world, an animal, for example, and say that it is something other than what it is? It is to say that each thing leads a double life, at once in the world and in our minds, and that to deny either one of these lives is to kill the thing in both its lives at once.

Four years ago the clocks started turning back. I open my eyes and see nothing. I feel nothing below or above me. I feel the absence of things. The absence of my flesh, my bones, my body, my mind. All that is left is awareness. I see nothing but the absence of colour. It’s not a black darkness. It’s simply nothing. The interior of a black hole. I recall news of a black hole lingering along the edges of our solar system. All that time ago. Four years ago. When the clocks started turning back. I hear nothing. Until there is a something. A small thing. A voice. I listen. There are more voices. The sounds are human. How long has it been since I’ve heard a human? The sounds scratch along my now present attention. They carve into my hearing. They are horrid, wretched things. Voices screaming. Growing loud and desperate. How many voices? Billions. This is the birth of our species. We are born screaming. It’s all we know to do. We have screamed for eternity. Within this empty space.

Freedom is not to defy, it is to co-exist. It is a challenge for the imagination

Freedom of the Heart Imagination is beyond my comprehension, Such is the beauty of creation. With every soul in constant migration We inhale the light of our suffering's transmutation. We move into our core, our love, our heart A sacred space within, our deepest art Move from our thoughts, our noisy mind space, Into a sanctuary of love, joy, peace and grace And as we dive deeper and deeper still, We find in that silence, the divine will And see there's nothing else to really fear, In freedom we surrender our inner victim.

Frieda B.'s a big dreamer, that's certainly true, but the world's biggest dreamer is also in you. All the color and music inside - set it free. Just dream your dreams big and believe they can be.

from CHAOS? Trust the imagination - lines and shapes revealed - space and light instead of blackness. Silence being tentative, tender life of universe.

from CHAOS? Trust the imagination. Peace is knowing without need for detailed explanation. Joy is openness to possibility. Sing your humming heart free from the heat of all creation. Swim into cool whirling coloured pools. Sleep on rock of consciousness.

...from sweaty-palmed anxiety blooms vivid imagination.

From time to time I once wondered how one wanders from time to time And think up the paradox line Speak of Epoch's crime Oh I lied, it hasn't happened yet But bet you better believe it's such a habit that I just said that in a past mindset

Gates got up, but not fast or jerkily, with the same slowness that had always characterized him. He wiped the sweat off his palms by running them lightly down his sides. As though he were going to shake hands with somebody. He was. He was going to shake hands with death. He wasn't particularly frightened. Not that he was particularly brave. It was just that he didn't have very much imagination. Rationalizing, he knew that he wasn't going to be alive anymore ten minutes from now. Yet he wasn't used to casting his imagination ten minutes ahead of him, he'd always kept it by him in the present. He couldn't visualize it. So he wasn't as unnerved by it as the average man would have been. ("3 Kills For 1")

Gaming was "one of the only times when you only have to focus on one thing." But even more than that, "It's like an anchor. As long as I know it's there, it's part of me. It's some form of continuity that in my life I desperately need.

Girl going past clinging to a young man's arm. Putting up her face like a duck to the moon. Drinking joy. Green in her eyes. Spinal curvature. No chin, mouth like a frog. Young man like a pug. Gazing down at his sweetie with the face of a saint reading the works of God. Hold on, maiden, you've got him. He's your boy. Look out, Puggy, that isn't a maiden you see before you, it's a work of imagination. Nail him, girlie. Nail him to the contract. Fly laddie, fly off with your darling vision before she turns into a frow, who spends all her life thinking of what the neighbours think.

Gathering your own reference materials, sketches and using your own imagination is going to help you grow as an artist far more than stealing someone else's work.

Get to work. Your work is to keep cranking the flywheel that turns the gears that spin the belt in the engine of belief that keeps you and your desk in midair.

Go ahead and pursue your God-given dreams.

Given that I don’t know anything, when I am making up stories about the future, why not make it a good story instead of a scary one?

God accentuate our mind with exact words to write.

God created every man

God gave us imaginations because that’s one of the ways we can visit the future! Thoughts are transport media!

God created us in His image, and He gave us an imagination with His imprint to create things for His glory!

God gives us a glimpse of what heaven will be like for the believer. It will have the characteristics of a happy home, a holy city, a glorious garden, and a beautiful bride. This staggers the imagination!

God is concerned with our imaginations, for they in a large measure determine what kind of persons we are to be.

God’s plan for your life is far beyond the imagination of men.

God is the Creator of all dreams.

God's word will produce with your level of understanding. The much you can understand it, the more wisdom you are privileged to have.

Good writing is both what one does and does not say.

Good stories take your imagination to anywhere

Grab a pen and your turf will have no limits.

Go where imagination takes you-- not where others have gone before.

Growing older doesn't mean that you are more mature than everyone who is younger than you. Maturity is a lot of things, and age has nothing to do with it.

Great imaginations are the breeding ground for great accomplishments! Great imaginations are like horses, they need guidance and proper nurturing, only then do they offer the world of adventure they promise.

Greatness does not come from trying to achieve the possible.

Grown ups’ could learn a lesson from watching cartoons.

Ha-ha!' the fox laughed. '*Just* stories, you say, as if stories mean nothing? Stories are the stuff that sticks the world together. Stories are the mud from which we're all made. The power to imagine stories is the power to remake the world as we dream it.

Happiness is an awareness, perception, feeling, and imagination. Happiness is a state of mind not a condition.

Happiness is there when you have great imagination and vision, when you take relentless action and love your creation.

Growing up I often wondered how the world would be today if, since the beginning of human life, every person acted as I did.

Had I been able to formulate my first impressions of the United States, I might have said that there was a place in America called Kansas, where people could find a magic land at the heart of a cyclone.

Half asleep and half awake, I became lost in a deep span of my version of a perfect world. A place I wanted so desperately to reach, but would never find except from within the catacombs of my mind. A place where the sun rose in the west and set in the east, where the mountains bowed to the wind like trees, and the rain sprinkled up from the ground below and onto the clouds above. A place where no one hurt or lost, or felt any tinge of desperation. A place where heartbeats were the only words needed, and music floated on the wind like dust. A place where no place was home. Where a single person could be the only sustenance needed to survive. A place where there were no yesterdays or todays, only tomorrows. A place for me to find solace, an escape from the real world I was forced to live in.

Happiness may be nothing but a lack of imagination.

Harness the imagination: Sometimes curbing her, sometimes giving her rein, for she is the whole of happiness. She sets to rights even the understanding. She sinks to tyranny, not satisfied with mere faith, but demanding works. Thus she becomes the mistress of life itself. She does so with pleasure or with pain, according to the nonsense presented. She makes people contented or discontented with themselves. By dangling before some nothing but the specter of their eternal suffering, she becomes the scourge of these fools. To others she shows nothing but fortune and romance, while merrily laughing. Of all this she is capable if not held in check by the wisest of wills.

Have faith in yourself. All the power is in your biology already. Be conscious of that power and bring it out. Remember, truth is indestructible, virtue is indestructible, purity is indestructible.