Authors:

A
B
C
D
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
M
N
O
P
Q
R
S
T
U
V
W
X
Y
Z

Ray Bradbury Quotes - Page 25

All Quotes Acting Adventure Age Art Autumn Balance Bones Censorship Character Children College Community Consciousness Country Creativity Culture Darkness Death Dying Earth Effort Envy Evil Failing Falling In Love Fear Fighting Film Fun Giving Good Morning Halloween Hate Heart Hell High School Home House Hurt Ignorance Imagination Inspirational Internet Joy Laughter Learning Legacy Letting Go Life Literature Love Lying Madness Magic Mankind Metaphor Moon Morning Motivational Muse Passion Past Philosophy Pleasure Quality Rain Reading Reality Rejection Risk Running Sadness School Science Science Fiction Seven Shame Silence Skins Sleep Son Soul Spring Students Summer Teaching This Day Today Travel Universe Waiting Wall War Water Wife Wine Wit Worry Writing

Remember, Montag, we're the happiness boys. We stand against the small tide of those who want to make everyone unhappy with conflicting theory and thought.

Remember, Montag, we're the happiness boys. We stand against the small tide of those who want to make everyone unhappy with conflicting theory and thought.

Boys, Unhappy, Want

Ray Bradbury (2016). “Fahrenheit 451”, p.30, Hamilton Books

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

Philosophical, Thinking, Men

FaceBook post by Ray Bradbury from Dec 13, 2015

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.

Feet, Wrinkles, Dust

Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.

Knowing, Saving, Shore

Ray Bradbury (2016). “Fahrenheit 451”, p.41, Hamilton Books

And the odd think in Dad's voice was the sound truth makes being said.

Dad, Thinking, Voice

His flesh took paleness from his bones.

Flesh, Bones

Ray Bradbury (2013). “Something Wicked This Way Comes”, p.95, Hachette UK

The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmuted water to steam, made sand and silica into green glass which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the invasion, all about. The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke.

Night, Glasses, Mirrors

From the outer edge of his life, looking back, there was only one remorse, and that was only that he wished to go on living.

Goes On, Edges, Looking Back

Ray Bradbury (2012). “The Illustrated Man”, p.33, Simon and Schuster

Who has more pockets than a magician? A boy. Whose pockets contain *more* than a magicians? A boy's.

Boys, Pockets, Magician

Ray Bradbury (1962). “Something wicked this way comes”, Alfred a Knopf Inc

Good writers touch life often.

Good Writers

Ray Bradbury (1951). “Fahrenheit 451: A Novel”, Simon and Schuster

Love is easy, and I love writing.

Writing, Love Is, Secret Love

I want to feel all there is to feel, he thought. Let me feel tired, now, let me feel tired. I mustn't forget, I'm alive, I know I'm alive, I mustn't forget it tonight or tomorrow or the day after that.

Life, Tired, Tonight

Ray Bradbury (2012). “Dandelion Wine”, p.14, HarperCollins UK

We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of on good rain and black loam.

Flower, Rain, Black

Ray Bradbury (1951). “Fahrenheit 451: A Novel”, Simon and Schuster

The river was mild and leisurely, going away from the people who ate shadows for breakfast and steam for lunch and vapors for supper.

Lunch, Rivers, People

Ray Bradbury (1967). “Fahrenheit 451”, Simon & Schuster

MOTHER: Why, just lying there, Jim, you run so fast. I never saw anyone move so much, just sleeping. Promise me, Jim. Wherever you go and come back, bring lots of kids. Let them run wild. Let me spoil them, some day. JIM: I'm never going to own anything that can hurt me.

Mother, Running, Hurt

Ray Bradbury (2013). “Something Wicked This Way Comes”, p.25, Hachette UK

I like to smell things and look at things, and sometimes stay up all night, walking, and watch the sun rise.

Night, Smell, Watches

Ray Bradbury (2016). “Fahrenheit 451”, p.2, Hamilton Books

Ah, art! Ah, life! The pendulum swinging back and forth, from complex to simple, again to complex. From romantic to realistic, back to romantic.

Life, Art, Simple

Ray Bradbury (1955). “THE OCTOBER COUNTRY”

He wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and ask for it back.

Girl, Running, Doors

Ray Bradbury (2016). “Fahrenheit 451”, p.5, Hamilton Books

But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They’re Caesar’s praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, ‘Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.’ Most of us can’t rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven’t time, money or that many friends. The things you’re looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book.

Art, Book, Ninety Nine

Ray Bradbury (2016). “Fahrenheit 451”, p.41, Hamilton Books

And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it's like it's morning again and I'm starting the day over.

Morning, Start The Day, Cry

..holding a book but reading the empty spaces.

Book, Reading, Space

Ray Bradbury (1962). “Something wicked this way comes”, Alfred a Knopf Inc

When I finished [writing it], I was crying. I knew at long last, after ten years of trying, I had written something good.

Writing, Years, Long

Time is so strange and life is twice as strange. You must promise me not to live to be too old, William. It if is at all convenient, die before you're fifty. It my take a bit of doing. But I advise this is simply because there is no telling when another Helen Loomis might be born. It would be dreadful, wouldn't it, if you lived on to be very very old and some afternoon in 1999 walked down Main street and saw me standing there, aged twenty-one, and the whole thing out of balance again?

Promise, Balance, Twenties

It was a great place to write a novel about book burning, in the library basement.

Book, Writing, Library

Please, please, help me grow to be like them, the ones'll soon be here, who never grow old, can't die, that's what they say, can't die, no matter what, or maybe they died a long time ago but Cecy calls, and Mother and Father call, and Grandmere who only whispers, and now they're coming and I'm nothing, not like them who pass through walls and live in trees or live underneath until seventeen-year rains flood them up and out, and the ones who run in packs, let me be the one! If they live forever, why not me?

Mother, Running, Wall

You May Also Like: