You ask Why to a lot of things and you wind up very unhappy indeed, if you keep at it.
Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. But three, now,...
His heart cringed from the fanning motion of ribs like pale spiders crouched and fiddling with their prey.
No, said a voice, the only thing wrong on a night like that is that there is a world and you must come back to it.
Strange. Half my years afraid of life. The other half, afraid of death. Always some kind of afraid.
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...
You don’t question Providence. If you can’t have the reality, a dream is just as good.
Montag tried to see the men's faces, the old faces he remembered from the firelight, lined and tired. He was looking for a brightness, a resolve, a triumph over tomorrow that hardly seemed to be there...
The sun burnt every day. It burnt time.
They were all alone. Their voices had died like echoes of the words of God spoken and vibrating in the shared deep.
My grandfather ran off the V-2 rocket film a dozen times and then hoped that someday our cities would open up more and let the green and the land and the wilderness in more, to remind people that we'r...
Do you know why books such as this are so important? They have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me, it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the m...
Don't they get afraid, then?They have a religion for that.
Live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds.
They rounded a corner in thunder and siren, with concussion of tires, with scream of rubber with a shift of kerosene bulk in the glittery brass tank, like the food in the stomach of a giant, with Mont...
The men were making too much noise, laughing, joking, to cover her terrible accusing silence below. She made the empty rooms roar with accusation and shake down a fine dust go guilt that was sucked in...
They felt the wings on their fingers and elbows flying, then, suddenly plunged in new sweeps of air, the clear autumn river flung them headlong where they must go. Up steps, three, six, nine, twelve!...
Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary. The public itself stopped reading of its own accord.
— А я завжди гадав, що Бог може бути тільки серйозним.— І при цьому створити качкодзьоба, верблюда, страуса і людину? Я Вас прошу!
— И ти обичаш да плачеш, но не си го признаваш. Наплаче ли се човек, всичко му минава.
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