Quotes from Ray Bradbury

I claim no victory. But there was blood on my gloves when I hung them up. When was the last time you did a story like that, out of pure indignation?

The cat came first, in order to be absolute first. It arrived when all the cribs and closets and cellar bins and attic hang-spaces still needed October wings, autumn breathings, and fiery eyes.

Like a fall of timber he chopped himself to bed.

In your life, did you know enthusiasm?' If the answer is yes you enter the sky. If no, you fall to burn in the pit.

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

insanlar daha çok meÅŸaleye benziyorlard?;birileri üfleyinceye kadar yanarlard?.Ne kadar nadir diÄŸer insanlar?n yüzleri sizi sizden al?p,kendi duygular?n?z? en titrek düÅŸüncelerinizi sizlere yans?t?rd??

Touch a scientist and you touch a child.

Teachers say if you write a story you must never name what you're trying to write. Just do it. When it's over you'll know what you've done.

When I look back now, I realize what a trial I must have been to my friends and relatives. It was one frenzy after one elation after one enthusiasm after one hysteria after another. I was always yelling and running somewhere, because I was afraid life was going to be over that very afternoon.

It's not books you need, it's some of the things that once were in books. The same things could be in the "parlour families" today. The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not.

I memorized all of "John Carter" and "Tarzan," and sat on my grandparents' front lawn repeating the stories to anyone who would sit and listen. I would go out to that lawn on summer nights and reach up to the red light of Mars and say, "Take me home!" I yearned to fly away and land there in the strange dusts that blew over dead-sea bottoms toward the ancient cities.

The Mexican people, once they have happened on a good food, he thought, flay the thing to distraction. Ham and eggs every morning now for two weeks. Since arriving in Guanajuato, bearing his typewriter, it had been the same thing each morning at nine. He stared at his plate, gently grieved. (The Candy Skull)

You have a right to youth. Go now, if you want. Because if you stay you'll have no time for anything but working and growing old and dying at your work. But it is good work.

Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information.

fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gift of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.

I sat and three hours later realized I had been seized by an idea that started short but grew to wild size by day's end. The concept was so riveting I found it hard at sunset to flee the library basement and take the bus home to reality: my house, my wife, and our baby daughter.

The girl? She was a time bomb.

Se da cuenta ahora porqué los libros son odiados y temidos? Muestran los poros del rostro de la vida

If you need to find out the kindling point of paper (451° F), don't call an academic, call the fire department.

Do you remember what happened to Mexico when Cortez and his very fine good friends arrived from Spain? A whole civilization destroyed by greedy, righteous bigots. History will never forgive Cortez.

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 you don't know it. It's fun out in the country. You hit rabbits, sometimes you hit dogs. Go take the beetle.

toward that suddenly brilliant town called Obscurity by a dazzling seashore called The Past.

By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. So vague, yet so immense. He did not want to live with it. Yet he knew that, during this night, unless he lived with it very well, he might have to live with it all the rest of his life.

I had no way to stop . I did not write Fahrenheit 451, it wrote me.