Quotes from Ray Bradbury

What sort of noise does a balloon make, adrift? None. No, not quite. It noises itself, it soughs, like the wind billowing your curtains all white as breaths of foam. Or it makes a sound like the stars turning over in your sleep. Or it announces itself like moonrise and moonset. That last is best: like the moon sailing the universal deeps, so rides a balloon.

Váyase a casa, Montang. Váyase a la cama, ¿Por qué desperdiciar sus horas finales, dando vueltas en su jaula y afirmando que no es una ardilla?

Tiene que haber algo en los libros, cosas que no podemos imaginar, para que una mujer se deje quemar viva. Tiene que haber algo. Uno no muere por nada.

for he remembered last week and the two white stones staring up at the ceiling and the pump-snake with the probing eye and the two soap faced men with the cigarettes moving in their mouths when they talked.

the Disney organization hired me to help plan the dreams that went into Spaceship Earth, part of Epcot Center, a permanent world's fair, now building to open in 1982. In that one building, I have crammed a history of mankind, coming and going back and forth in time, then plunging into our wild future in space. Including dinosaurs.

No necesitamos que nos dejen tranquilos. De cuando en cuando, precisamos estar seriamente preocupados.

Who are a little wise, the best fools be.

Thomas Wolfe ate the world and vomited lava. Dickens dined at a different table every hour of his life. Molière, tasting society, turned to pick up his scalpel, as did Pope and Shaw. Everywhere you look in the literary cosmos, the great ones are busy loving and hating.

Beatty smiled his smile which showed the candy pink-ness of his gums and the tiny candy whiteness of his teeth. 'I've seen it all. You were going to call for a night off.

ALone, she snuggled luxuriously down through the warm snowbank of linen and wool, sheet and cover, and the colors of the patchwork quilt were bright as the circus banners of old time. Lying there, she felt as small and secret as on those mornings eighty-some-odd years ago when, wakening, she comforted her tender bones in bed.

Você pergunta o porquê de muitas coisas e, se insistir, acaba se tornando realmente muito infeliz.

We lived longer but at a price. We had to be our own children, having none.

The fact is we didn't get along well until photography came into its own. Then - motion pictures in the early twentieth century. Radio. Television. Things began to have mass.' 'And because they had mass, they became simpler

Caesareans or not, children are ruinous; you're out of your mind," said Mrs. Phelps. "I plunk the children in school nine days out of ten. I put up with them when they come home three days a month; it's not bad at all. You heave them into the 'parlor' and turn the switch. It's like washing clothes; stuff laundry in and slam the lid." Mrs. Bowles tittered. "They'd just as soon kick as kiss me. Thank God, I can kick back!

I learned long ago that I am not seeing directly, that my subconscious is doing most of the "sponging" and it will be years before any usable impressions surface.

They were given the new job, as custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior; official censors, judges, and executors. That's you, Montag, and that's me.

On doit tous être pareils. Nous ne naissons pas libres et égaux, comme le proclame la Constitution, on nous rend égaux.

Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests. Tabloids. Everything boils down to the snap ending.

the crisis is past and all is well, the sheep returns to the fold. We're all sheep who have strayed at times. Truth is truth, to the end of reckoning, we've cried. They are never alone that are accompanied with noble thoughts, we've shouted to ourselves. 'Sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge,' Sir Philip Sidney said. But on the other hand: 'Words are like leaves and where they most abound, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found.

I rarely watch the 'parlor walls' or go to races or Fun parks. So I've lots of time for crazy thoughts, I guess.

Hepimiz aptal?z, dedi Clemens, hem de her zaman. Sadece her gün farkl? türden aptal?z. San?yoruz ki bugün aptal deÄŸiliz, dersimizi ald?k. Dün aptald?m ama bu sabah deÄŸilim. Ertesi gün anl?yoruz ki, evet, o gün de aptald?k...

Do you ever read any of the books you burn?" He laughed. "That's against the law!

She didn't want to know how a thing was done, but why. That can be embarrassing. You ask Why to a lot of things and you wind up very unhappy indeed, if you keep at it. The poor girl's better off dead.

If I fell from here, it would surely kill me." He let a pebble drop. Moments later it clicked on the rocks below. "The Lord would never forgive me." He tossed another pebble. "It wouldn't be suicide, would it, if I did it out of Love …?