You don't have to burn books, do you, if the world starts to fill up with nonreaders, nonlearners, non-knowers?
Ya no existe el cohete. Nunca existió. Ni la gente. No hay nadie en todo el universo. Nunca hubo nadie. Ni planetas. Ni estrellas. Eso decía. Y luego algo acerca de sus pies y sus piernas y sus manos:...
Where do we go from here? Would books help us?Only if the third necessary thing could be given us. Number one, as I said: quality of information. Number two: leisure to digest it. And number three: th...
Up steps, three, six, nine, twelve! Slap! Their palms hit the library door. * * * They opened the door and stepped in.They stopped.The library deeps lay waiting for them.Out in the world, not much hap...
Time is so strange and life is twice as strange. You must promise me not to live to be too old, William. It if is at all convenient, die before you're fifty. It my take a bit of doing. But I advise th...
Through neglect, ignorance, or inability, the new intellectual Borgias cram hairballs down our throats and refuse us the convulsion that could make us well. They have forgotten, if they ever knew, the...
This will be the one trip of your life. Keep your eyes wide.
There must be something in books, things we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house, there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing.I don't know what it is. I'm so damned unh...
The things you're looking for...are in the world, but the only way the average chap will see ninety-nine percent of them is in a book.
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.
The sun burned every day. It burned Time. The world rushed in a circle and turned on its axis and time was busy burning the years and the people anyway, without any help from him. So if he burned thin...
The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmuted water to steam, made sand and silica into green glass which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the i...
The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the e...
The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They’re Caesar’s praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, ‘Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.
Spesso scivolo come un serpente su una vettura della sotterranea a sentire cosa dicono le persone. O nelle mescite di bibite dolci, e sapete che cosa ho scoperto? -- Che cosa? -- Che la gente non dice...
Sometimes writers write about a world that does not yet exist. We do it for a hundred reasons. (Because it’s good to look forward, not back. Because we need to illuminate a path we hope or we fear hum...
Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer.
Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder young...
So long as the vast population doesn’t wander about quoting the Magna Charta and the Constitution, it’s all right.
So few want to be rebels anymore.