Imagination (n.) is the quintessence of freedom — Nothing is more free than the imagination of man.
Imagination (n.) before experience puts every chimera on an equal footing: a man who knew nothing could never prefer one possible world to another.
Imagination (n.) runs on associations that, though born of judgement, are not easily altered by every exception that turns up.
Imagination (n.) cannot turn us into another person so that we enjoy his talents as ours — and even if it could, it could not whisk us back in time to love him as someone else.
Imagination (n.) can build a New Jerusalem paved with gold and walled with rubies, yet cannot faithfully rebuild the Paris it has actually seen.
Imagination (n.) is the faculty that can separate whatever it can tell apart — hence winged horses, fiery dragons and monstrous giants.
Imagination (n.) reaches a minimum: an idea that cannot be diminished further without total annihilation.
Imagination (n.) when vigorous is of all talents the most proper to procure belief and authority — and its owner is often a victim to his own fire and genius.
Imagination (n.) once set on a train of thinking carries on its course when its object fails, like a galley put in motion by the oars.
Imagination (n.) has two sets of principles: permanent, irresistible ones like causal inference, without which human nature must perish, and weak, irregular ones found only in weak minds.
Imagination (n.) as the vivacity of ideas is the foundation of memory, senses and understanding alike — a principle seemingly so trivial and so little founded on reason.
Imagination (n.) can make a malady real by often thinking of it.
Imagination (n.) passes easily from obscure to lively ideas, but with difficulty from lively to obscure.
Imagination (n.) governs us more than value: men proportion their affections to the light an object appears in, not its real worth.
Imagination (n.) fills in the hidden body: see a man's legs moving behind a screen and you give him a head, shoulders, breast and neck, and believe in them.
Imagination (n.) builds a golden mountain only by joining gold and mountain, and a virtuous horse only by gluing a feeling onto a familiar shape.
Imagination (n.) is the freest thing in man: it can join a man's head to a horse's body — but it cannot make us believe such an animal ever existed.
Imagination (n.) is naturally sublime, running into the most distant parts of space and time to escape objects custom has made too familiar; judgment does the opposite.