imagination

Intelligence is the wife, imagination is the mistress, memory is the servant.

Have you ever played Maximum Happy Imagination?""Sounds like a Japanese game show."Kat straightens her shoulders. "Okay, we're going to play. To start, imagine the future. The good future. No nuclear bombs. Pretend you're a science fiction writer."Okay: "World government... no cancer... hover-boards.""Go further. What's the good future after that?""Spaceships. Party on Mars.""Further.""Star Trek. Transporters. You can go anywhere.""Further.""I pause a moment, then realize: "I can't."Kat shakes her head. "It's really hard. And that's, what, a thousand years? What comes after that? What could possibly come after that? Imagination runs out. But it makes sense, right? We probably just imagine things based on what we already know, and we run out of analogies in the thirty-first century.

No one knows very much about the life of another. This ignorance becomes vivid, if you love another. Love sets the imagination on fire, and, also, eventually, chars the imagination into a harder element: imagination cannot match love, cannot plunge so deep, or range so wide.

Most of the time it may seem like I'm staring into nothingness, but there's a whole world playing out in my head.

Lord Derfel, you do insult a man so very easily. What was it to be? My head in a pit dunged by slaves? What a paltry imagination you do have. Mine, I fear, sometimes seems excessive, even to me.

The world is only as small as we see it, my lady. Imagination knows no limits.

Imagination is pure potentiality for creation. We shouldn't submit it to the hourly wages we subject our time at work.

Your mind is your greatest power. Use it well.

What for me is bliss and life and ecstasy and exaltation, the world in general seeks at most in imagination; in life it finds it absurd.

I want to get lost in other worlds and let my imagination travel beyond this life I know.

Public transit situates us so that we are given license to accept what's right in front of us, but will likely arouse our desire to compare our narrative to someone else's, to give ourselves permission to speculate upon a person's private space, or life, with no fear of recourse or punishment.

I refuse to settle for what you call reality.

A galaxy is composed of gas and dust and stars - billions upon billions of stars. Every star may be a sun to someone.

May you see the world with wonder. And may you imagine only good things.

The interior life is often stupid. Its egoism blinds it and deafens it; its imagination spins out ignorant tales, fascinated. It fancies that the western wind blows on the Self, and leaves fall at the feet of the Self for a reason, and people are watching. A mind risks real ignorance for the sometimes paltry prize of an imagination enriched. The trick of reason is to get the imagination to seize the actual world__f only from time to time.

This is the Self-Esteem Looking-Glass. You have to look in the mirror and compliment yourself.

My life exists in an imagined reality.

The root of all fear is imagination.