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Ray Bradbury

"Putting out the stars and extinguishing the sun."

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"Putting out the stars and extinguishing the sun."

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Amber Hurdle

"Don't let the tall weeds cast a shadow on the beautiful flowers in your garden."

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Amber Hurdle

"Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump, you may be freeing him from being a camel."

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Amber Hurdle

"I whisper like the sea in the horse's ear."

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Amber Hurdle

"Like the cotton-carder who combs tangled cotton into a long bundle of fibre, you take all my knotted fragments and comb them into light."

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Amber Hurdle

"Hariri says, in his Maqamat: 'Safety is on the river's BANK."

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Amber Hurdle

"The log on the fire: is it dreaming of the forest?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Putting out the stars and extinguishing the sun."

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Amber Hurdle

"Life is nether food nor drink. But the faith of a dance dream."

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Amber Hurdle

"Our mouths and bodies speak for us in a new language as the trees shake loose a rain of petals that stick to our slickness like skins we will wear forever. And just like that, I am changed."

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Amber Hurdle

"When you're as hot as you are, no amount of ice will do."

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Ray Bradbury
"But souls can't be sold. They can only be lost and never found again."
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Ray Bradbury
"Quantity produces quality. If you only write a few things, you're doomed."
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Ray Bradbury
"I often wonder if God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down?"
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Ray Bradbury
"Cram them full of non-combustible 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."
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Ray Bradbury
"The huge round lunar clock was a gristmill. Shake down all the grains of Time-the big grains of centuries, and the small grains of years, and the tiny grains of hours and minutes-and the clock pulverized them, slid Time silently out in all directions in a fine pollen, carried by cold winds to blanket the town like dust, everywhere. Spores from that clock lodged in your flesh to wrinkle it, to grow bones to monstrous size, to burst feet from shoes like turnips. Oh, how that great machine dispensed Time in blowing weathers."
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Ray Bradbury
"Now let's take up the minorities in our civilisation, shall we? Bigger the population, the more minorities. Don't step on the toes of the dog-lovers, the cat-lovers, doctors, lawyers, merchants, chiefs, Mormons, Baptists, Unitarians, second-generation Chinese, Swedes, Italians, Germans, Texans, Brooklynites, Irishmen, people from Oregon or Mexico. The people in this book, this play, this TV serial are not meant to represent any actual painters, cartographers, mechanics anywhere. The bigger your market, Montag, the less you handle controversy, remember that!"
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Ray Bradbury
"How men envy and often hate these warm clocks, these wives, who know they will live forever. So what do we do? We men turn terribly mean, because we can't hold to the world or ourselves or anything. We are blind to continuity, all breaks down, falls, melts, stops, rots, or runs away. So, since we cannot shape Time, where does that leave men? Sleepless. Staring."
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Ray Bradbury
"Without the library, you have no civilization."
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Ray Bradbury
"He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know who reflected your own light to you? People were more often--he searched for a simile, found one in his work--torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?"
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Ray Bradbury
"Death loves death, not life. Dying people love to know that others die with them; it is a comfort to learn you are not alone in the kiln, in the grave."
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