Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon. 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! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that’s burned dry. The moon rolls by to look at you down there, with its idiot face. It’s a long way back to sunset, a far way on to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead – And wasn’t it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time...
Ray BradburyTag: night insomnia sleeplessness
... мъртвите хора са като восъчен спомен - вземаш ги в представите си, започваш да ги моделираш: тук поопънеш нещо, там посплескаш, изтегляш тялото по-дълго, оформяш и размачкваш, извайваш и накрая се получава един човек-спомен, който е много далеч от истинския си вид.
Ray BradburyYou only fail if you stop writing.
Ray BradburyI want to hold onto this funny thing. God, it's gotten big on me. I don't know what it is. I'm so damned unhappy, I'm so mad, and I don't know why. I feel like I'm putting on weight. I feel fat. I feel like I'm saving a lot of things, and I don't know what. I might even start reading books.
Ray BradburyTag: humor melancholy
420 All Day
Ray BradburyI don’t need an alarm clock. My ideas wake me.
Ray BradburyYou've got to jump off cliffs and build your wings on the way down.
Ray BradburyThere 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 unhappy, I'm so mad, and I don't know why I feel like I'm putting on weight, I feel fat. I feel like I've been saving up a lot of things, and don't konw what. I might even start reading books.
Tag: books-reading
Somehow, irresistibly, the prime thing was: nothing mattered. Life in the end seemed a prank of such size you could only stand off at this end of the corridor to note its meaningless length and it's quite unnecessary height, a mountain built to such ridiculous immensities you were dwarfed in its shadow and mocking of its pomp.
Ray BradburyThe sun burnt everyday. It burnt time. The world rushed in a circle and turned on its axis and time was busy burning the years and the people away, without any help from him.
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