The men were making too much noise, laughing, joking, to cover her terrible accusing silence below. She made the empty rooms roar with accusation and shake down a fine dust go guilt that was sucked in their nostrils as they plunged about.
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Happiness is important. Fun is everything. And yet I kept sitting there saying to myself, I'm not happy, I'm not happy.
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I'll hold on to the world tight some day. I've got one finger on it now; that's a beginning.
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Sleeping beauty awoke at the kiss of a scientist and expired at the fatal puncture of his syringe.
Ray BradburyTag: science imagination literature censorship
The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality.
Ray BradburyTag: inspirational book-power
If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides of a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget that there is such a thing as war. If the government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it.
Ray BradburyTag: peace
One year Halloween came on October 24, three hours after midnight. At that time, James Nightshade of 97 Oak Street was thirteen years, eleven months, twenty-three days old. Next door, William Halloway was thirteen years, eleven months, and twenty-four days old. Both touched toward fourteen; it almost trembled in their hands. And that was the October week when they grew up overnight, and were never so young any more...
Ray BradburyTag: temptation supernatural carnival
The books leapt and danced like roasted birds, their wings ablaze with red and yellow feathers.
Ray BradburyGoing away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapors for dinner.
Ray BradburyThey felt the wings on their fingers and elbows flying, then, suddenly plunged in new sweeps of air, the clear autumn river flung them headlong where they must go. Up steps, three, six, nine, twelve! Slap! Their palms hit the library door. Jim and Will grinned at each other. It was all so good, these blowing quiet October nights and the library waiting inside now with its green-shaded lamps and papyrus dust.
Ray BradburyTag: bradbury
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