Un libro, en manos de un vecino, es un arma cargada. Quémalo. Saca la bala del arma. Abre la mente del hombre. ¿Se sabe acaso quién puede ser el blanco de un hombre leído? ¿Yo? No puedo aceptarlo.
This was all he wanted now. Some sign that the immense world would accept him and give him the long time needed to think all the things that must be thought.
This is a book of warning. It is a reminder that what we have is valuable, and that sometimes we take what we value for granted. There
Think I'll go eat me a doughnut and take me a nap.
They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers at half-price in the grand March sale.
They want to know what I do with all my time. I tell them that sometimes I just sit and think. But I won’t tell them what. I’ve got them running.
They pointed at each other, with starlight burning in their limbs like daggers and icicles and fireflies, and then fell to judging their limbs again, each finding himself intact, hot, excited, stunned...
There was a damn silly bird called a Phoenix back before Christ: every few hundred years he built a pyre and burned himself up. He must have been first cousin to Man.
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...
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...
The word on the jar was RELISH. And he was glad he had decided to live.
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 voice clock mourned out the cold hour of a cold morning of a still colder year.
The train skimmed on softly, slithering, black pennants fluttering, black confetti lost on its own sick-sweet candy wind, down the hill, with the two boys pursuing, the air was so cold they ate ice cr...
The third planet is incapable of supporting life, stated the husband patiently. Our scientists have said there’s far too much oxygen in their atmosphere.
The things you are looking for, Montag, are in the world but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved...
The suit caught light and stirred like a bed of black tweed-thorns, interminably itching, covering the man’s long body with motion so it seemed he should excruciate, cry out, and tear the clothes free...
The smallest effort to win means, at the end of each day, a sort of victory.
The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm.
The scythe fell and lay in the grass like a lost smile.