Home > Topic > my imagination
61 " I couldn’t admit to any of the boys I hung out with that I wanted to fuck ’em, so my erotic life was in my imagination and in the body. "
62 " I long to embrace, to include in my own short life, all that is accessible to man. I long to speak, to read, to wield a hammer in a great factory, to keep watch at sea, to plow. I want to be walking along the Nevsky Prospect, or in the open fields, or on the ocean — wherever my imagination ranges. "
― Anton Chekhov
63 " For the first time I understood the dogma of eternal pain -- appreciated " the glad tidings of great joy." For the first time my imagination grasped the height and depth of the Christian horror. Then I said: " It is a lie, and I hate your religion. If it is true, I hate your God." From that day I have had no fear, no doubt. For me, on that day, the flames of hell were quenched. From that day I have passionately hated every orthodox creed. That Sermon did some good.In the Old Testament, they said. God is the judge -- but in the New, Christ is the merciful. As a matter of fact, the New Testament is infinitely worse than the Old. In the Old there is no threat of eternal pain. Jehovah had no eternal prison -- no everlasting fire. His hatred ended at the grave. His revenge was satisfied when his enemy was dead.In the New Testament, death is not the end, but the beginning of punishment that has no end. In the New Testament the malice of God is infinite and the hunger of his revenge eternal.The orthodox God, when clothed in human flesh, told his disciples not to resist evil, to love their enemies, and when smitten on one cheek to turn the other, and yet we are told that this same God, with the same loving lips, uttered these heartless, these fiendish words; " Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." These are the words of " eternal love." No human being has imagination enough to conceive of this infinite horror.All that the human race has suffered in war and want, in pestilence and famine, in fire and flood, -- all the pangs and pains of every disease and every death -- all this is as nothing compared with the agonies to be endured by one lost soul.This is the consolation of the Christian religion. This is the justice of God -- the mercy of Christ.This frightful dogma, this infinite lie, made me the implacable enemy of Christianity. The truth is that this belief in eternal pain has been the real persecutor. It founded the Inquisition, forged the chains, and furnished the fagots. It has darkened the lives of many millions. It made the cradle as terrible as the coffin. It enslaved nations and shed the blood of countless thousands. It sacrificed the wisest, the bravest and the best. It subverted the idea of justice, drove mercy from the heart, changed men to fiends and banished reason from the brain.Like a venomous serpent it crawls and coils and hisses in every orthodox creed.It makes man an eternal victim and God an eternal fiend. It is the one infinite horror. Every church in which it is taught is a public curse. Every preacher who teaches it is an enemy of mankind. Below this Christian dogma, savagery cannot go. It is the infinite of malice, hatred, and revenge.Nothing could add to the horror of hell, except the presence of its creator, God.While I have life, as long as I draw breath, I shall deny with all my strength, and hate with every drop of my blood, this infinite lie. "
64 " How much of it was real. How much of it was just a dream. Is it possible that all of it was just a play between two lonely people? Was this woman the one I really love or just the product of my imagination and of my desire to love and be loved. Would I be able to make this dream come true or was I heading into disillusionment and tragedy? "
― Stevan V. Nikolic , Weekend In Faro
65 " Finally, I’d say to anyone who wants to tell these tales, don’t be afraid to be superstitious. If you have a lucky pen, use it. If you speak with more force and wit when wearing one red sock and one blue one, dress like that. When I’m at work I’m highly superstitious. My own superstition has to do with the voice in which the story comes out. I believe that every story is attended by its own sprite, whose voice we embody when we tell the tale, and that we tell it more successfully if we approach the sprite with a certain degree of respect and courtesy. These sprites are both old and young, male and female, sentimental and cynical, sceptical and credulous, and so on, and what’s more, they’re completely amoral: like the air-spirits who helped Strong Hans escape from the cave, the story-sprites are willing to serve whoever has the ring, whoever is telling the tale. To the accusation that this is nonsense, that all you need to tell a story is a human imagination, I reply, ‘Of course, and this is the way my imagination works. "
― Philip Pullman , Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm: A New English Version
66 " I write because my imagination won't let me quit. And because I want to read what I wrote and share what I've written. "
67 " I base a deuteragonist on the best friend I never had. A lot of good ideas come from what I never had and cause my imagination to light up. "
― B.A. Gabrielle
68 " Your gaze fixated on him, my imagination deducing your conclusion. The agony sets in, this pain is unsurpassable with despair adjoining. But I can feel my heart knocking against my chest. So I'll attempt to push ahead for my behalf. "
69 " I can create my imagination because i am an Artist.! "
70 " The thought of a comedy with paid prostitutes always seemed so silly and purposeless, for a person hired by me could never take the place of my imagination of a 'cruel mistress'. "
― Richard von Krafft-Ebing , Psychopathia Sexualis: A Medico-Legal Study
71 " I can feel them. The babies. They're not crawling all over me. They're not vomiting in my hair or shrieking. They're doing perfectly normal baby things, and I'm keeping them alive. But I resent them. Their constancy, their intrusion on my relationship and my free time and my naps and my imagination and my heart. They've come too soon, and I can't do any of what I had planned. All I can do is survive. "
― Lena Dunham , Not That Kind of Girl: A Young Woman Tells You What She's "Learned"
72 " ...with a click, my novel would be born; it would come out into the light suddenly transformed from the hypothetical text composed in my imagination into finished, tangible thing with a real and independent existence. The moment of clicking on the print button always gave rise to strange and powerful ambivalence--a combination of self-satisfaction, gloom and anxiety. Self-satisfaction for having finished writing the book. Gloom because taking my leave of the characters has the same effect on me as when a group of friends have to depart. And anxiety, perhaps because I am on the verge of delivering up into other people's hands something that I treasure. "
― Alaa Al Aswany , نادي السيارات
73 " What I want you to understand is that when I heard your words, it was as if every single second we had spent together up to that point was a lie. Every word, every touch, every kiss. You were looking at me, but you wanted him. I was this…thing to be endured to keep your family safe. You would allow me to touch you, to make love to you all the while wishing for Colin. I thought all that passion we had between us was a complete figment of my imagination and it was a bitter pill to swallow. I hated you. Worse than I’d ever hated anyone in my life. I was determined to make you pay. I’d keep you shackled to me forever as punishment. Keep you away from your true love.” Bree stared at him, unable to fathom such cruelty. Who was this man she loved that was capable of such a thing? “And then?” He took a deep shaky breath and leaned against the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then I spent all my energy trying to prove to myself by looking at you that you were lying to me, to justify what I was doing by picking up little gestures or flickers in your eyes that would prove to me that you felt nothing for me.” Bree rolled her eyes and gave a tearful snort. “And did you, after how hard I fought for you, did you get what you wanted? Did you prove to yourself what a lying bitch I am?” “No. Of course not. So I started to doubt what I heard.” “After living with Bernardo for all your life it had just occurred to you that he just may have tampered with the fucking thing?” Bree bit out, furiously. "
― E. Jamie , The Betrayal (Blood Vows, #2)
74 " REBELby Tatyana DiasI have the might of separating the fight between darkness and light.With ashes that surpasses my sight, crime in time slashes, isolating my rights.I speak with my eyes, and visualize with my mind.I'm on a quest that has left me possessed and stressed 'cause I envy the blessed and pity the depressed.You can whip me, strip me, crucify me to a cross; my imagination within my deepest destination will not fall! "
― Susane Colasanti , Take Me There
75 " He was my age and in my imagination he was a fireman, not the kind that actually fights fires but the kind who travels the country shirtless posing for calendars. "
― Marika Christian , Phone Kitten
76 " Before the magisterial mess of Trevor Thomas's house, the orderly houses that most of us live in seem meagre and lifeless -- as, in the same way, the narratives called biographies pale and shrink in the face of the disorderly actuality that is a life. The house also stirred my imagination as a metaphor for the problem of writing. Each person who sits down to write faces not a blank page but his own overfilled mind. The problem is to clear out most of what is in it . . . The goal is to make a space where a few ideas and images and feelings may be so arranged that a reader will want to linger awhile among them, rather than to flee, as I wanted to flee from Thomas's house. "
― Janet Malcolm
77 " For more than three decades, coffee has captured my imagination because it is a beverage about individuals as well as community. A Rwandan farmer. Eighty roast masters at six Starbucks plants on two continents. Thousands of baristas in 54 countries. Like a symphony, coffee's power rests in the hands of a few individuals who orchestrate its appeal. So much can go wrong during the journey from soil to cup that when everything goes right, it is nothing short of brilliant! After all, coffee doesn't lie. It can't. Every sip is proof of the artistry -- technical as well as human -- that went into its creation. "
― Howard Schultz , Onward: How Starbucks Fought for Its Life without Losing Its Soul
78 " Whenever I fail to complete something immediately I create the same situation in My imagination and complete my task without any mistakes then I celebrate that success with a smile and start it from beginning with a new energy and double efforts "
79 " Whenever I fail to complete something immediately I create the same saturation in My imagination and complete my task without any mistakes then I celebrate that success with a smile and start it from beginning with a new energy and double efforts "
80 " Nothing and no one in the world could kill the love I have for you. I have surrendered my whole individuality, the very essence of my being to you. I have given you my body time after time to treat as you pleased. All the hoardings of my imagination I have laid bare to you. There isn't a recess in my brain into which you haven't penetrated. I have clung to you and caressed you and slept with you and I would like to tell the whole world that I clamour for you. You are my lover and I am your mistress, and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination-- the most powerful in the world. "
― Violet Trefusis
