“Like all solitary persons he had invested friendship with a divine glamour: he imagined that the people he passed on the street, laughing together and embracing when they parted, the people who dined together with so many smiles, you will scarcely believe me, but he imagined that they were extracting from all that congeniality great store of satisfaction.”

“I wrote about the person I love most, my older brother, Noah. We don't live together so I wrote what I imagine he does when we're not together.""And what is that?" prodded the stout man. "He's a superhero who saves people in danger, because he saved me and my brother from dying in a fire a couple of years ago. Noah is better than Batman." The crowd chuckled. "I love you, too, lil'bro.”

“You know what he said? He said that being away from me is less like being away from a person than being away from other people is. I don't know anyone else who would say something like that. And he was right. When we were apart, I missed him all the time, but he didn't feel faraway. He felt closer than the kids at school."...Certain people are like that, I guess. They're together no matter where they are. They just belong to each other.”

“...for the first time Rincewind saw the troll.It wasn’t half so bad as he had imagined.Umm, said his imagination after a while.It wasn’t that the troll was horrifying. Instead of the rotting, betentacled monstrosity he had been expecting Rincewind found himself looking at a rather squat but not particularly ugly old man who would quite easily have passed for normal on any city street, always provided that other people on the street were used to seeing old men who were apparently composed of water and very little else. It was as if the ocean had decided to create life without going through all that tedious business of evolution, and had simply formed a part of itself into a biped and sent it walking squishily up the beach.(…) How does he hold himself together, his mind screamed at him. Why doesn’t he spill?”

“Claude could simply not imagine the couples he met at parties or passed on the street ever being locked in carnal embrace.”

“[Imagination] is the one thing beside honesty that a good writer must have. The more he learns from experience the more he can imagine. If he gets so he can imagine truly enough people will think that the things he relates all really happened and that he is just reporting.”