125903b
|
l bd mn wjwd shy m fy lktb, l bd mn wjwd 'shy l nstTy` tSwrh, 'shy tj`l mr'@ tbq~ fy mnzl yHtrq. l bd mn wjwd shy m hnk.'nti l tbqyn fy mnzl yHtrq mn 'jl l shy.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
d2f626f
|
It's not books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the 'parlor families' today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not. No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books w..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
7e36232
|
Everyone must leave something behind when he dies...A child or a book or a painting or a...garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there... The difference between the man who cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
22aac41
|
And when he died, I suddenly realized i wasn't crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again...Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and people look at that tree or that fl..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
6194ec9
|
It was a pleasure to burn
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
b421d87
|
Here we all are," said Herb Thompson, taking his cigar out and looking at it reflectively. "And life is sure funny." "Eh?" said Mr. Stoddard. "Nothing, except here we are, living our lives, and some place else on earth a billion other people live their lives." "That's a rather obvious statement." "Life," he put his cigar back in his lips, "is a lonely thing. Even with married people. Sometimes when you're in a person's arms you feel a milli..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
9c81d34
|
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. So vague, yet so immense. He did not want to live with it. Yet he knew that, during this night, unless he lived with it very well, he might have to live with it all the rest of his life.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
2fc73e0
|
Watch. Delicately, like the petals of a flower. Light the first page, light the second page. Each becomes a black butterfly. Beautiful, eh? Light the third page, from the second and so on, chain-smoking, chapter by chapter, all the silly things the words mean, all the false promises, all the secondhand notions and time-worn philosophies.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
8a6cdc1
|
Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
b6e2bad
|
If it seems I've come the long way around, perhaps I have. But I wanted to show what we all have in us, that it has always been there, and so few of us bother to notice. When people ask me where I get my ideas, I laugh. How strange -- we're so busy looking out, to find ways and means, we forget to look in.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
d3e5681
|
Ignorance is fatal, M. Garrett
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
92c5336
|
Moundshroud, leaning over, gave a snort: "Why those are Sins, boys! And nondescripts. There crawls the Worm of Conscience!"
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
f7bba94
|
How like a beautiful statue of ice it was, melting in the sun. I remember the newspapers dying like huge moths. No one wanted them back. No one missed them. And then the Government, seeing how advantageous it was to have people reading only about passionate lips and the fist in the stomach, circled the situation with your fire-eaters. So,
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
6b02a4d
|
The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the eye, to bludgeon away all the strangeness, their mouths fringed with nails so they resembled steel-toothed carnivores, spitting them into their swift hands as they hammered up frame cottages and..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
0509a6d
|
I know. You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by.
|
|
mistakes
self-help
|
Ray Bradbury |
15e8619
|
Well,' she said, 'I'm seventeen and I'm crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
3bb8c7e
|
But three, now, Christ three A.M.! Doctors say the body's at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You're the nearest to dead you'll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot!
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
e800a37
|
There are so many real people around, telling children what and how to do, that a boy has to run off down a beach, even if it's only in his head, to get by himself in his own world.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
ab2514e
|
Don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.
|
|
life
ray-bradbury
self-help
|
Ray Bradbury |
f80928e
|
Death makes everything else sad. But death itself only scares. If there wasn't death, all the other things wouldn't get tainted.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
7931f69
|
Was there, then, no strength in growing up? No solace in being an adult? No sanctuary in life? No fleshly citadel strong enough to with-stand the scrabbling assault of midnights?
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
9907a13
|
If I was ever a rare fine summer person, that's long ago. Most of us are half-and-half. The August noon in us works to stave off the November chills. We survive by what little Fourth of July wits we've stashed away. But there are times when we're all autumn people.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
e08b914
|
Silence. A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles, which covered the earth like a white and shadowy sea.
|
|
sea
silence
summer
|
Ray Bradbury |
6f5e9ef
|
Trick, yes, trick.' The boys were catching fire with the idea. It made all the good glue go out of their joints and put a little dust of sin in their blood. They felt it stir around until it pumped on up to light their eyes and stretch their lips to show their happy-dog teeth. 'Yeah, sure
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
7216e6b
|
We never burned right.
|
|
burned
fire
|
Ray Bradbury |
029e6ff
|
And on either side of the river was there a tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month; And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. Yes, thought Montag, that's the one I'll save for noon. For noon. . . . When we reach the city.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
6059515
|
Far away in the cool dim empty rooms of the big old house, a silver bell tinkled and faded.
|
|
far-away
old-house
|
Ray Bradbury |
50a8741
|
The wine still waits in the cellars below. My beloved family still sits on the porch in the dark. The fire balloon still drifts and burns in the night sky of an as yet unburied summer. Why and how? Because I say it is so.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
19fcf9a
|
This age thinks better of a gilded fool than of a threadbare saint in wisdom's school.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
5301aae
|
The Martians discovered the secret of life among animals. The animal does not question life. It lives. Its very reason for living is life; it enjoys and relishes life.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
0930dad
|
We got caught reading nights with flashlights under our sheets, right? So, nobody'll suspect an old jar of fireflies; folks'll think it's just a night museum.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
3fa6cc9
|
He knew it would take as many years as he could think of now to forget the tracks, no matter how deeply buried. Some morning in autumn, spring, or winter he knew he'd wake and, if he didn't go near the window, if he just lay deep and snug and warm, in his bed, he would hear it, faint and far away. And around the bend of the morning street, up the avenue, between the even rows of sycamore, elm and maple, it the quietness before the start of ..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
c79e855
|
No espere ser salvado por alguna cosa, persona, maquina o biblioteca. Realice su propia labor salvadora, y si se ahoga, muera, por lo menos, sabiendo que se dirigia hacia la playa.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
4c97f05
|
This summer night deep down under the stars was all the things you would ever feel or see or hear in your life, drowning you all at once.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
36f99eb
|
I miss that in the city you can walk outside your front door and there's people all around you. And they don't know a thing about you.You could be anyone.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
21d6ec3
|
No fantasy, no reality. No studies concerning loss, no gain. No imagination, no will. No impossible dreams: No possible solutions.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
1d64fc1
|
Everywhere you look in the literary cosmos, the great ones are busy loving and hating.
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
2fefe37
|
The sun burned every day. It burned Time. The world rushed in a circle and turned on its axis and time was busy burning the years and the people anyway, without any help from him. So if he burned things with the firemen and the sun burned Time, that meant that everything burned!
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
2f4fad4
|
Grow up and you turn into burglars and get shot, or worse, they make you wear a coat and tie and stash you in the First National Bank behind brass bars! We gotta stand still! Stay the age we are. Grow up? Hah! All you do then is marry someone who screams at you!
|
|
growing-up
|
Ray Bradbury |
8e9c134
|
and it was suddenly so very wrong that he had begun to cry, not at death but at the thought of not crying at death, a silly empty man near a silly empty woman, while the hungry snake made her still more empty. How
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |
c08c033
|
Somewhere, a book said once, all the talk ever talked, all the songs ever sung, still lived, had vibrated way out in space and if you could travel to Far Centauri you could hear George Washington talking in his sleep or Caesar surprised at the knife in his back.
|
|
infinity
space-and-time
|
Ray Bradbury |
20f5204
|
And what lights the sun? Its own fire. And the sun goes on, day after day, burning and burning. The sun and time. The sun and time and burning. Burning. The river bobbled him along gently. Burning. The sun and every clock on the earth. It all came together and became a single thing in his mind. After a long time of floating on the land and a short time of floating in the river he knew why he must never burn again in his life.
|
|
epiphany
fire
sun
time
water
|
Ray Bradbury |
2fd407c
|
Her eyes reversed into herself, to watch the secret heart of herself pounding itself into pieces against the side of her chest.
|
|
heart
|
Ray Bradbury |
3e5096a
|
Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Funerals are unhappy and pagan? Eliminate them, too. Five minutes after a person is dead he's on his way to the Big Flue, t..
|
|
|
Ray Bradbury |