I know. You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by.
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.
You can't try to do things you simply must do them.
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..
I believe in having fun first, and along the way, if you teach people, if you influence people, well and good.
How do you get so empty? he wondered. Who takes it out of you?
In writing the short novel Fahrenheit 451 I thought I was describing a world that might evolve in four or five decades. But only a few weeks ago, in Beverly Hills one night, a husband and wife passed...
You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.
Work. Don't Think. Relax.
First you jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down.
Science fiction is any idea that occurs in the head and doesn't exist yet, but soon will, and will change everything for everybody, and nothing will ever be the same again. As soon as you have an idea...
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.
The father hesitated only a moment. He felt the vague pain in his chest. If I run, he thought, what will happen? Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before Death is what counts. And we've...
The crickets were listening. The night was listening to her. For a change, all of the far summer-night meadows and close summer-night trees were suspending motion; leaf, shrub, star, and meadow grass...
Somehow, irresistibly, the prime thing was: nothing mattered. Life in the end seemed a prank of such size you could only stand off at this end of the corridor to note its meaningless length and it's q...
So now do you see why books are hated and feared?They show the pores in the face of life.
People don't talk about anything... No, not anything. They name a lot of cars or clothes or swimming pools mostly and say how swell! But they all say the same things and nobody says anything different...
Oh, what strange wonderful clocks women are. They nest in Time. They make the flesh that holds fast and binds eternity. They live inside the gift, know power, accept, and need not mention it. Why spea...
Nobody listens anymore. I can't talk to the walls, because they are screaming at me. I can't talk to my wife, because she listens to the walls.
Men are men, unfortunately, no matter what their shape, and inclined to sin.