Find out what your hero or heroine wants, and when he or she wakes up in the morning, just follow him or her all day..
There were so many things a tree could do: add color, provide shade, drop fruit or become a children's playground, a whole sky universe to climb and hang from; an architecture of food and pleasure, th...
One year Halloween came on October 24, three hours after midnight. At that time, James Nightshade of 97 Oak Street was thirteen years, eleven months, twenty-three days old. Next door, William Halloway...
Even now he could feel the start of the long journey, the leave taking, the going away from the self he had been.
When I was a boy in the midwest I used to go out and look at the stars at night and wonder about them.I guess every boy does that.When I wasn't looking at the stars, I was running in the my old or my...
It is a subliminal thing. It is the tick of a clock that has ticked so long one no longer notices. Something is in a room when a man lives in it. Something is not in the room when a man is dead in it.
I was a crazy creature with a head full of carnival spangles until I was thirty, and then the only man I ever really cared for stopped waiting and married someone else. So in spite, in anger at myself...
I don't know anything any more, he said, and let a sleep lozenge dissolve on his tongue
Hello! He said hello and then said, What are you up to now? I'm still crazy. The rain feels good. I love to walk in it. I don't think I'd like that, he said. You might if you tried. I never have. She...
He realized that all men were like this; that each person was to himself one alone. One oneness, a unit in a society, but always afraid. Like here, standing. If he should scream, if he should holler f...
…and do you know what?What?People don’t talk about anything.
Memory is an illusion, nothing more. It is a fire that needs constant tending.
Men are men, unfortunately, no matter what their shape, and inclined to sin.
La dignité de la vérité se perd dans l'excès de ses protestations
Well, I've kept you waiting long enough, he said, peering at me from that distance which drinking adds between people and which, at odd turns in the evening, seems closeness itself.
You really expect answers to your calling when you are young. You feel that whatever you may think can be real. And some times maybe that is not so wrong.
Business or profession?''I guess you'd call me a writer.'No profession,' said the police car, as if talking to itself. The light held him fixed, like a museum specimen, needle thrust through chest.
It doesn't think anything we don't want it to think.''That's sad,' said Montag, quietly, 'because all we put into it is hunting and finding and killing. What a shame if that's all it can ever know.
This is happening to me, said Montag.What a dreadful surprise, said Beatty. For everyone nowadays knows, absolutelyis certain, that nothing will ever happen to me. Others die, I go on. There are nocon...
Your insanity is beautifully complete!
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