Quotes from Ray Bradbury

Maybe the books can get us half out of the cave. They just might stop us from making the same damn insane mistakes!

but the full moon soothes all sick animal, be they human or plan field beast. there is a serenity of color, a quietude of touch, a sweet sculpturing of mind and body in full moonlight.

But what would happen is that the world would catch up with and try to sicken you. If you did not write every day, the poisons would accumulate and you would begin to die, or act crazy, or both. You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.

custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior; official censors, judges, and executors.

I love to write. It's all I do.

There it sat, perfect as a fresh-laid egg on the dead sea bottom, the only nucleus of light and warmth in hundreds of miles of lonely wasteland. It was like a heart beating alone in a great dark body. He felt almost sorrowful with pride, gazing at it with wet eyes.

the most dangerous enemy of truth and freedom, the solid unmoving cattle of the majority. Oh, God, the terrible tyranny of the majority.

RELISH! What a special name for the minced pickle sweetly crushed in its white-capped jar. The man who had named it, what a man he must have been. Roaring, stamping around, he must have tromped the joys of the world and jammed them in this jar and writ in a big hand, shouting, RELISH! For its very sound meant rolling in sweet fields with roistering chestnut mares, mouths bearded with grass, plunging your head fathoms deep in trough water so the sea poured cavernously through your head. RELISH!

And there were two moons; the clock moon with four faces in four night directions above the solemn black courthouse, and the real moon rising in vanilla whiteness from the dark east.

The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

Your don't have to burn books to destroy culture. Just get people to stop reading them.

See the world: It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.

Old men only lie in wait for people to ask them to talk. Then they rattle on like a rusty elevator wheezing up a shaft.

Fire is bright and fire is clean. That way lies melancholy. Don't let the torrent of melancholy and drear philosophy drown our world.

Dandelion Wine is nothing if it is not the boy-hid-in-the-man playing in the fields of the Lord on the green grass of other Augusts in the midst of starting to grow up, grow old, and sense darkness waiting under the trees to seed the blood. I

Light the third page from the second and so on, chain-smoking, chapter by chapter, all the silly things the words mean, all the false promises, all the second-hand notions and time-worn philosophies

And on either side of the river was there a tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month; And the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. Yes

In the attic where the rain touched the roof softly on spring days and where you could feel the mantle of snow outside, a few inches away, on December nights, A Thousand Times Great Grandmère existed. She did not live, nor was she eternally dead, she … existed.

But three, now, Christ three A.M.! Doctors say the body's at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You're the nearest to dead you'll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot!

The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching,' he said. 'The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.

All the time he had been talking his hands had wandered over the Illustrations, as if to adjust their frames, to brush away dust- the motions of a connoisseur, an art patron.

les livres ne racontent rien. Rien que tu puisse croire ou enseigner aux autre. Si ce sont des romans, ils parlent d'êtres qui n'existent pas, de produits de l'imagination. Dans le cas contraire, c'est encore pire. Chaque professeur traite l'autre d'idiot. Chaque philosophe essaie de brailler plus fort que son adversaire. Ils galopent tous dans tous les sens, obscurcissant les étoiles, éteignant le soleil. On en sort complètement perdu.

How did this happen? It was only the other night everything was fine and the next thing I know I'm drowning. How many times can a man go down and still be alive?

Women never wake then, do they? They sleep the sleep of babes and children.