Quotes from Ray Bradbury

Looking at her in the hospital he had thought, I don't know you, who you are, does it matter if we live or die?

Cram them full of noncombustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy. Ray Bradbury Fahrenheit 451

But here I was with hardly a sign of any outward conflict. It was all running around in spiked boots inside my head, making cuts and bruises where no one could see them except me and a psychologist. But it was just as bad.

The zipper displaces the button, and a man lacks that much time to think while dressing at dawn...

I don't know. We have everything we need to be happy, but we aren't happy. Something's missing. I looked around. The only thing I positively knew was gone was the books I'd burned in ten or twelve years. So I thought books might help.

We'll just start walking today and see the world and the way the world walks around and talks, the way it really looks...And while none of it will be me when it goes in, after a while it'll all gather together inside and it'll be me.

I think the sun is a flower. That blooms for just one hour.

He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man.

We went right on insulting the dead. We went right on spitting on the graves of all the poor ones who died before us...and some day we'll remember so much that we'll build the biggest Goddamn steam-shovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in and cover it up

With school turning out more runners, jumpers, racers, tinkerers, grabbers, snatchers, fliers, and swimmers instead of examiners, critics, knowers, and imaginative creators, the word 'intellectual,' of course, became the swear word it deserved to be.

The man just opened his mouth, which meant that all kinds of secret doors in his body gave way. He did not sing so much as let his soul free.

I bet it's the eleventh Commandment," murmured the priest, eyes down. "What would the eleventh Commandment be?" asked Doone, scowling. "Why not: 'THOU SHALT SHUT UP AND LISTEN'" said the priest. "Ssh.

Bill, when you're my age, you'll find out it's the little savors and little things that count more than big ones. A walk on a spring morning is better than an eighty-mile ride in a hopped-up car, you know why? Because it's full of flavors, full of a lot of things growing. You've time to seek and find.

This will be the one trip of your life. Keep your eyes wide.

I blundered into creativity as blindly as any child learning to walk and see.

The Lord is not serious. In fact, it is a little hard to know just what else He is except loving. And love has to do with humor, doesn't it? For you cannot love someone unless you put up with him, can you? And you cannot put up with someone constantly unless you can laugh at him. Isn't that true? And certainly we are ridiculous little animals wallowing in the fudge bowl, and God must love us all the more because we appeal to his humor.

Isi purta fericirea ca pe o masca, iar fata aceea fugise cu masca prin curtea casei ei, si nu era chip sa se duca sa i-o ceara inapoi.

In other words, if your boy is a poet, horse manure can only mean flowers to him; which is, of course, what horse manure has always been about.

I am a passionate, not an intellectual writer, which means my characters must plunge ahead of me to live the story

Primul lucru, dupa cum spuneam, e calitatea cunostintelor noastre. Al doilea lucru, strans legat de primul, e ragazul necesar pentru a le digera. Iar al treilea e dreptul de a savarsi fapte intemeiatepe ceaa ce invatam din primele doua.

What does it matter who is Past or Future, if we are both alive, for what follows will follow, tomorrow or in ten thousand years.

And with the trick, much admired by magicians, of sitting in a green velour chair and-vanishing! Turn your head and you forgot his face. Vanilla pudding.

Colonel Freeleigh? said Douglas softly. There was something in his silence that made them all shut up their mouths. They approached, almost on tiptoe. Douglas, bent down, disengaged the phone from the old man's now quite cold fingers. Douglas lifted the receiver to his own ear, listened. Above the static he heard a strange, a far, a final sound. Two thousand miles away, the closing of a window.

But remember that the Captain belongs to the most dangerous enemy of truth and freedom, the solid unmoving cattle of the majority. Oh, God, the terrible tyranny of the majority. We