1,603 Quotes by Ray Bradbury

Christ, you could massacre half a Hindu village and still look like Peter Rabbit. What are you stuffed with?”“Chocolate bars. And I keep six kinds of ice-cream in my icebox, when I can afford it.

Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal.And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day, every day, sleeping its life away.

My dear, you never will understand time, will you? You're always trying to be the things you were, instead of the person you are tonight. Why do you save those ticket stubs and theater programs? They'll only hurt you later. Throw them away, my dear.

Business or profession?''I guess you'd call me a writer.'No profession,' said the police car, as if talking to itself. The light held him fixed, like a museum specimen, needle thrust through chest.

Was there any special reason for selecting French chocolate ice cream to spoon into the broadcasting unit?'Brock thought about it and smiled. 'It’s my favorite flavor.''Oh,' said the doctor. 'I figured, hell, what’s good enough for me is good enough for the radio transmitter.' 'What made you think of spooning ice cream into the radio?''It was a hot day.

Young man,' she said to Bill Forrester, 'you are a person of taste and imagination. Also, you have the will power of ten men; otherwise you would not dare veer away from the common flavors listed on the menu and order, straight out, without quibble or reservation, such an unheard-of things as lime-vanilla ice.'He bowed his head solemnly to her.'Come sit with me, both of you,' she said. 'We'll talk of strange ice creams and such things as we seem to have a bent for.

He carries no burden, he feels no pain. What man, like woman, lies down in the darkness and gets up with child? The gentle, smiling ones own the good secret. Oh, what strange wonderful clocks women are. They nest in Time. They make flesh that holds fast and binds eternity.

And when he died, I suddenly realized i wasn't crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again...Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there.

Montag sentiu que o livro eu escondera batia como um outro coração contra o seu peito.