Ray Bradbury Quotes

The ideas will follow me. When they're off-guard, and ready to be born, I'll turn around and grab them.

The keys to the beetle are on the night table. I always like to drive fast when I feel that way. You get up to around ninety-five and you feel wonderful. Sometimes I drive all night and come back and...

The multicolored or grey lights touching their faces, but never really touching them...

The nightmare of living was begun.

The people there were gods and midgets and knew themselves mortal and so the midgets walked tall so as not to embarrass the gods and the gods crouched so as to make the small ones feel at home.

The psychiatrist wants to know why I go out and hike around in the forests and watch the birds and collect butterflies. I'll show you my collection some day.Good.They want to know what I do with my ti...

The quality of death, like that of life, must be of an infinite variety, and if one has already died once, then what was there to look for in dying for good and all, as he was now?

The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm.

The things you’re looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine percent of them is in a book. Don’t ask for guarantees. And don’t look to be saved...

The voice clock mourned out the cold hour of a cold morning of a still colder year.

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? Be...

The word on the jar was RELISH. And he was glad he had decided to live.

The world swarms with people, each one drowning, but each swimming a different stroke to the far shore.

The worst thing you do when you think is lie — you can make up reasons that are not true for the things that you did, and what you’re trying to do as a creative person is surprise yourself — find out...

The writer must let his fingers run out the story of his characters, who, being only human and full of strange dreams and obsessions, are only too glad to run.

Their hands slapped library door handles together, their chests broke track tapes together, their tennis shoes beat parallel pony tracks over lawns, trimmed bushes, squirreled trees, no one losing, bo...

Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations, Digests, Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending.

There are many actors alone who haven't acted Pirandello or Shaw or Shakespeare for years because their plays are too aware of the world. We could use their anger. And we could use the honest rage of...

There are smiles and smiles; learn to tell the dark variety from the light.

There are three phrases that make possible the world of writing about the world of not-yet (you can call it science fiction or speculative fiction; you can call it anything you wish) and they are simp...