#in

Through an experience that simultaneously involved my sensibility and intelligence, I realized early on that the imaginative life, however morbid it might seem, is the one that suits temperaments like mine. The fictions of my imagination (as it later developed) may weary me, but they don't hurt or humiliate. Impossible lovers can't cheat on us, or smile at us falsely, or be calculating in their caresses. They never forsake us, and they don't die or disappear. --The book of Disquiet ↗

— Fernando Pessoa

#love #experience

I had a werewolf morning. Awoke with a rum hangover, imagined blood on the walls, and prayed to god it was mine. ↗

— Randy Wayne White

#florida #rww #tomlinson #imagination

It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did it. ↗

— J.M. Barrie

#imagination #indulge #peter-pan #saturday-night #imagination

Dan was doing his best Ian Kabra impersonation, looking around the store as though inspecting it for cockroaches. Amy tried to turn her snort of laughter into a cough. "Espresso?" The saleswoman materialized seemingly out of nowhere. Amy realized that the full-length mirror on the wall was actually a door. If she were Amy Cahill, she would blush and shake her head no, just because she didn't want to cause any bother. She imagined what Natalie Kabra would do. "Tea. Darjeeling," she said in a curt tone. "Oh, not Darjeeling, sis," Dan said. "That's just so middle class." "Lapsang souchong?" the saleswoman asked. "I just adored his last collection," Dan said. The woman's tight smile dimmed. "That's a tea. ↗

— Jude Watson

#imagination

Imagination, of course, can open any door - turn the key and let terror walk right in. ↗

— Truman Capote

#horror #imagination #imagination

In Kilanga, people knew nothing of things they might have had- A Frigidaire? a washer-dryer combination? Really, they'd sooner imagine a tree that could pull up it's feet and go bake bread. It didn't occur to them to feel sorry for themselves. ↗

— Barbara Kingsolver

#happiness #poverty #imagination

I recognized him then; that is, I finally comprehended what I had known but had never been able to formulate: he had always been complete. He had finished the work of becoming himself, long before any of us could even imagine such a feat was possible. ↗

— Aleksandar Hemon

#individuality #insecurity #imagination

When in the end, the day came on which I was going away, I learned the strange learning that things can happen which we ourselves cannot possibly imagine, either beforehand, or at the time when they are taking place, or afterwards when we look back on them. ↗

— Karen Blixen

#imagination

I think there must be probably different types of suicides. I'm not one of the self-hating ones. The type of like "I'm shit and the world'd be better off without poor me" type that says that but also imagines what everybody'll say at their funeral. I've met types like that on wards. Poor-me-I-hate-me-punish-me-come-to-my-funeral. Then they show you a 20 X 25 glossy of their dead cat. It's all self-pity bullshit. It's bullshit. I didn't have any special grudges. I didn't fail an exam or get dumped by anybody. All these types. Hurt themselves. I didn't want to especially hurt myself. Or like punish. I don't hate myself. I just wanted out. I didn't want to play anymore is all. I wanted to just stop being conscious. I'm a whole different type. I wanted to stop feeling this way. If I could have just put myself in a really long coma I would have done that. Or given myself shock I would have done that. Instead. ↗

— David Foster Wallace

#hate #self #self-harm #suicide #imagination

I am imagination. I can see what the eyes cannot see. I can hear what the ears cannot hear. I can feel what the heart cannot feel ↗

— Peter Nivio Zarlenga

#imagination