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Quote by Roseanna M. White

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Dreams of Savannah

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Roseanna M. White

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“Whenever imagination strays and is wasted recklessly, when it ceases to fulfil its function of perceiving and producing the symbols that lead to inner intelligence, the mundus imaginalis…may be considered to have disappeared. In the West, this decadence may date back to the moment when Averroism rejected the Avicennian cosmology with its intermediary angelic hierarchy of the Animae or Angeli caelestes. These Angeli caelestes (on a lower rung of the hierarchy than that of the Angeli intellectuales) had in fact the privilege of imaginative power in its purest form. Once the universe of these souls had disappeared, the imaginative function itself was thrown out of joint and devalued. Thus one can understand the warning issued later by Paracelsus, who cautioned against any confusion…with fantasy, that “madman’s corner stone”.”

PhilosophyImaginationFantasyAngelology
Book:Mundus Imaginalis, or The imaginary and the Imaginal
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“Instead of limiting your imagination by current circumstances and constraints, imagine a world in which some key constraints don't exist, and ask yourself how you or your institution might respond.”

ImaginationSelf HelpBusiness AnalysisJonathan Garo KoomeyTurning Numbers Into KnowledgeBusiness ScenarioScenario Learning
Book:Turning Numbers into Knowledge: Mastering the Art of Problem Solving
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“Artists are not born out of love. It’s the absence of love that gives birth to this anguish, agony, resentment, fury and an hour-long conversation within the loneliness of an empty ribcage. It’s the quest for love, for recognition and then the set back leaving the artist aghast because none of that matters anymore. He has wandered way too far on this illicit lane of human psyche. You do not eat the forbidden apple and artists always do that, only to live a life cursed by their own romance with the sadness of a vain destination. It’s dangerous to be this close to an artist where you keep his name on the tip of your tongue, hold yellow in your fist, and stare at the bewildering starry night. There’s chaos, so much of it that you hear his screams in his letters to Theo, you see him in the cracks of the palette of dried water paint. There are a few things that we do not want to share with anyone. That's where the heart is.”

LovePassionImaginationPaintings
Author:Sneha Banerjee
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