This is a work of fiction. All the characters in it human and otherwise are imaginary excepting only certain of the fairy folk whom it might be unwise to offend by casting doubts on their existence. Or lack thereof.

I was just then going through a healthy reaction from the orthodoxy of my youth religion had become for me not so much a possession as an obsession which I was trying to throw off and this iconoclastic tale of an imaginary tribe was the result.

The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins all of them imaginary.

Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.

In life single women are the most vulnerable adults. In movies they are given imaginary power.

There is not enough love and goodness in the world to permit giving any of it away to imaginary beings.

I've studied a technique called the Sanford Miesner technique that teaches you how to focus. It's mainly about daydreaming. And the technique's really about imaginary circumstances. Using your imagination to sort of daydream about stuff. It makes you emotional in a scene.

They are imaginary characters. But perhaps not solely the products of my imagination since there are some aspects of the characters that relate to my own experience of a wide variety of people.

Happiness is an imaginary condition formerly attributed by the living to the dead now usually attributed by adults to children and by children to adults.

I can relate to historical characters or imaginary ones. It doesn't matter if a story takes place in the future or in the present as long as the story is compelling.