Somewhere in him, a shadow turned mournfully over. You had to run with a night like this so the sadness could not hurt Ray Bradbury More Quotes by Ray Bradbury More Quotes From Ray Bradbury A good night sleep, or a ten minute bawl, or a pint of chocolate ice cream, or all three together, is good medicine. Ray Bradbury chocolate-ice-creamgood-nightsleep I would not see our candle blown out in the wind. It is a small thing, this dear gift of life handed us mysteriously out of immensity. I would not have that gift expire... If I seem to be beating a dead horse again and again, I must protest: No! I am beating, again and again, living man to keep him awake and move his limbs and jump his mind... What's the use of looking at Mars through a telescope, sitting on panels, writing books, if it isn't to guarantee, not just the survival of mankind, but mankind surviving forever! Ray Bradbury horsebookmoving Life is like underwear, should be changed twice a day. Ray Bradbury underwearlife-is-likeshould You don't have to worry about the future, you don't worry about the past - you just explode. Ray Bradbury worrypast The average TV commercial of sixty seconds has one hundred and twenty half-second clips in it, or one-third of a second. We bombard people with sensation. That substitutes for thinking. Ray Bradbury averagepeoplethinking A book has got smell. A new book smells great. An old book smells even better. An old book smells like ancient Egypt. Ray Bradbury egyptsmellbook Don't talk about it; write. Ray Bradbury writing Without libraries what have we? We have no past and no future. Ray Bradbury readingbookpast My religion encompasses all religions. I believe in God, I believe in the universe. I believe you are god, I believe I am god; I believe the earth is god and the universe is god. We're all god. Ray Bradbury universeearthbelieve Journalism keeps you planted in the earth. Ray Bradbury journalismearth I am Plato's Republic. Mr. Simmons is Marcus. I want you to meet Jonathan Swift, the author of that evil political book, Gulliver's Travels! And this other fellow is Charles Darwin, and-this one is Schopenhauer, and this one is Einstein, and this one here at my elbow is Mr. Albert Schweitzer, a very kind philosopher indeed. Here we all are, Montag. Aristophanes and Mahatma Gandhi and Gautama Buddha and Confucius and Thomas Love Peacock and Thomas Jefferson and Mr. Lincoln, if you please. We are also Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Ray Bradbury platoevilbook And what, you ask, does writing teach us? First and foremost, it reminds us that we are alive and that it is a gift and a privilege, not a right. Ray Bradbury alivedoewriting Video games are a waste of time for men with nothing else to do. Ray Bradbury videogamesmen Facts are not interesting to me. Ray Bradbury factsinteresting 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. Ray Bradbury haterunningfall 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. Ray Bradbury bookyearsneeds There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches. Every minority, be it Baptist/Unitarian, Irish/Italian/Octogenarian/Zen Buddhist, Zionist/Seventh-day Adventist, Women's Lib/Republican, Mattachine/FourSquareGospel feels it has the will, the right, the duty to douse the kerosene, light the fuse. Every dimwit editor who sees himself as the source of all dreary blanc-mange plain porridge unleavened literature, licks his guillotine and eyes the neck of any author who dares to speak above a whisper or write above a nursery rhyme. Ray Bradbury buddhistrunningbook Disbelief is catching. It rubs off on people. Ray Bradbury disbeliefcatchingpeople Well, after all, this is the age of the disposable tissue. Blow your nose on a person, wad them, flush them away, reach for another, blow, wad, flush. Everyone using everyone else's coattails. How are you supposed to root for the home team when you don't even have a program or know the names? For that matter, what color jersey's are they reading as they trot out to the feild? Ray Bradbury teamreadinghome God, how we get our fingers in each other's clay. That's friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make of each other. Ray Bradbury clayinspiringfriendship
