I seriously believed that my last hour was approaching, and yet, so strange is imagination, all I thought of was some childish hypothesis or other. In such circumstances, you do not choose your own thoughts. They overcome you.
Sometimes, the things that are the most real only happen in one’s imagination.
Anything one man can imagine, other men can make real.
Where there is no imagination there is no horror.
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
There would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men—and God knows why they are so fashioned—did not employ their imaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow, instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity.
So vast, so limitless in capacity is man’s imagination to disperse and burn away the rubble-dross of fact and probability, leaving only truth and dream.
It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth?
Indulge your imagination in every possible flight.
Imagining something is better than remembering something.
Habit accustoms us to everything. What we see too much, we no longer imagine; and it is only imagination which makes us feel the ills of others.[L’habitude accoutume à tout; ce qu’on voit trop on ne l’imagine plus, et ce n’est que l’imagination qui nous fait sentir les maux d’autrui.]
A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment.
