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"Blessed with the Beta Male imagination, he spent much of his life squinting into the future so he might spot ways in which the world was conspiring to kill him..."
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"I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend...I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But I can pretend..."
"...in an infinite universe, anything that could be imagined might somewhere exist."
"The imagination is a muscle. If it is not exercised, it atrophies."
"Few people have the imagination for reality."
"But then again, if you don't imagine, nothing ever happens at all. Imagining isn't perfect. You can't get all the way inside someone else. I could never have imagined Margo's anger at being found, or the story she was writing over. But imagining being someone else, or the world being something else, is the only way in."
"I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course, I in my timid body did not wish to have them in the neighborhood. But the world that contained even the imagination of FA¡fnir was richer and more beautiful, at whatever the cost of peril."
"With the brush we merely tint, while the imagination alone produces colour."
"Says, Rahula! Rahula! Face of Glory! Universe chawed and swallowed!"
"The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led."
"The world cannot be translated, It can only be dreamed of and touched."
Explore more quotes by Christopher Moore
"Rivera rubbed his temples. 'Satan told you to do it?' he said wearily.'No.''Elvis?''I told you, it's supernatural."
"I'm feeling full of tiny princes, bustling to get out into the world and start plotting against one another."
"Does the work get easier once you know what you are doing?''Your lungs grow thick with stone dust and your eyes bleary from the sun and fragments thrown up by the chisel. You pour your lifeblood out into works of stone for Romans who will take your money in taxes to feed soldiers who will nail your people to crosses for wanting to be free. Your back breaks, your bones creak, your wife screeches at you, and your children torment you with open begging mouths, like greedy baby birds in the nest. You go to bed every night so tired and beaten that you pray to the Lord to send the angel of death to take you in your sleep so you don't have to face another morning. It also has its downside."
"As much as I encourage communication with my readers, I don't want reviews from them, simply because I don't need to be hamstrung in the middle of working on something."
"On the radio, turned low, Reba sang of hard times with the full authority of a cross-eyed redheaded millionaire."
"I gave you all!' screeched Lear, waving a palsied claw at Regan.'And you took your bloody time giving it, too, you senile old fuck,' said Regan."
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