Works of imagination should be written in very plain language;

“Works of imagination should be written in very plain language; the more purely imaginative they are the more necessary it is to be plain.” Thus spoke Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the poet-philosopher of the English Romantic age, whose words shimmer with the wisdom of one who understood the power and peril of the imagination. In this reflection, Coleridge teaches that simplicity is the vessel of wonder, and that truth wrapped in clarity shines brighter than truth wrapped in ornament. For the imagination, when pure and strong, needs no gilded words to give it strength—it moves the heart by the quiet majesty of its vision. The more sublime the dream, the simpler the speech through which it must be told.

This quote finds its origin in Coleridge’s meditations on the nature of poetry and imagination, as expressed in his critical masterpiece, Biographia Literaria (1817). There, he distinguishes between fancy and imagination—fancy being mere cleverness or arrangement, and imagination being the creative power that unites the visible and the invisible, the real and the ideal. Coleridge believed that when a poet truly works in the realm of imagination—touching the eternal, shaping vision into word—his language must be plain, lest ornament obscure the truth. The reader must see through the words, as through clear glass, into the infinite landscape beyond. To speak too grandly is to cloud the divine light that imagination seeks to reveal.

In the time of Coleridge, poetry often bore the heavy garments of formality and artifice. The poets of the previous century adorned their verse with high diction and mythic references, believing grandeur of thought demanded grandeur of phrase. Yet Coleridge, and his kindred spirit William Wordsworth, rebelled against this tyranny of style. They sought to speak to the human heart in the language of men and women who toil, love, and dream. They believed that imagination, not pomp, makes poetry divine. Thus, when Coleridge says that the more imaginative a work is, the plainer its language should be, he declares a revolution of the spirit—the triumph of truth and beauty through simplicity.

Consider the immortal tale of “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.” In that strange and haunting poem, Coleridge conjures a vision of terror and redemption upon the vast and ghostly sea. The story is filled with the supernatural: the killing of the albatross, the curse of the crew, the ship of death. Yet the language that carries it is direct, even stark. “Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” These words are as simple as breath, yet their weight is eternal. The power of that vision does not lie in complexity, but in purity—in the clarity that allows the reader’s imagination to enter the vision and make it real. The poet does not dazzle with his own brilliance; he opens the door for the reader’s own inner light to shine.

This principle extends beyond poetry into every art, and even into life itself. When the heart is full of genuine imagination—when one truly sees beauty, or envisions truth—it does not need to decorate or disguise its expression. The greatest teachers, prophets, and artists have always spoken in plain words. Jesus spoke in parables of seeds and sheep. The Buddha taught through silence and story. The philosopher speaks of light and cave; the poet of bird and star. It is not simplicity of thought that makes greatness, but simplicity of expression—words so clear that they awaken something vast and wordless in the soul that hears them.

O listener, understand this: language is the bridge between the inner and outer worlds, and only a clear bridge can bear the weight of imagination. Those who mistake complexity for profundity build bridges that collapse beneath their own ornamentation. But those who speak plainly, with heart unclouded and vision true, let their words endure like stone. When you create—whether in art, in thought, or in life—do not strive to impress, but to reveal. Let your imagination burn brightly, but let your words be the calm lamp that holds its flame.

Therefore, let this be your lesson: simplicity is the garment of truth. When your imagination soars, keep your speech grounded. When your thoughts reach the heavens, let your words touch the earth. Speak and write not to astonish, but to awaken. Let your message be clear enough for a child to feel, yet deep enough for a sage to ponder. For in this balance lies mastery. The imagination does not need complexity to move the heart—it needs only honesty, clarity, and soul. And when such purity is achieved, your words, like Coleridge’s, will live beyond their time—plain, radiant, and eternal, as light upon the water.