Quotes About Technology

Then I went in and shot the televisor, that insidious beast, that Medusa, which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little, but myself always going back, going back, hoping and waiting

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

Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time

I remember the newspapers dying like huge moths. No one wanted them back. No one missed them.

The bombers crossed the sky and crossed the sky over the house, gasping, murmuring, whistling like an immense, invisible fan, circling in emptiness.

When did it all start, you ask, this job of ours (to burn book). There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship. Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Ask yourself what do people want in this country above all? People want to be happy isn't that right? That's all we live for, isn't it? For pleasure, for titillation?

Then, of course, the telephone's such a convenient thing; it just sits there and demands you call someone who doesn't want to be called.

Patent-zatvara? zamenio je dugmad i time je ?oveku oduzeto taman ono malo vremena za razmišljanje dok se u obla?i u zoru, u filozofsko doba dana, i stoga melanholino doba dana.

But my uncle says that was merely rationalizing it; the real reason, hidden underneath, might be they didn't want people sitting like that, doing nothing, rocking, talking; that was the wrong kind of social life. People talked too much. And they had time to think.

The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the eye, to bludgeon away all the strangeness, their mouths fringed with nails so

Dad read the stereo-newspapers inserted into the special hat you put on your head and which turned the microscopic page in front of the magnifying lens if you blinked three times in succession.

Sexed but sexless, the robots. Named but unnamed, and borrowing from humans everything but humanity, the robots stared at the nailed lids of their labeled F.O.B boxes, in a death that was not even a death, for there had never been a life.

Radio. Television. Things began to have mass.' Montag sat in bed, not moving. 'And because they had mass, they became simpler,' said Beatty. 'Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books leveled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me?

If this goes on, all communication everywhere will be through text messages or computers, and direct speech between two people, without a machine, will be outlawed.)

Ei, si lucrurile produse in serie au devenit mai simple. Odinioara, cartile ii interesau doar pe cativa oameni, risipiti ici, colo. Le dadea mana sa fie altfel decat ceilalti. Lumea era incapatoare. Dar dupa aceea lumea s-a umplut de ochi, de coate, de guri. Populatia a crescut de doua ori, de trei ori, de patru ori. Filmele si radioul, revistele si cartile au devenit toate o apa si-un pamant, un fel de coca facuta dupa aceeasi reteta.

There you have it, Montag. It didn't come from the Government down. There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with, no! Technology, mass exploitation, and minority pressure carried the trick, thank God. Today, thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time, you are allowed to read comics, the good old confessions, or trade journals.

The Murderer

Fahrenheit 451 is speculative fiction. It's an "If this goes on . . ." story. Ray Bradbury was writing about his present, which is our past. He was warning us about things; some of those things are obvious, and some of them, half a century later, are harder to see.

e-books smell like burned fuel

There was a silence of the tomb yard. Sexed but sexless, the robots. Named but unnamed, and borrowing from humans everything but humanity, the robots stared at the nailed lids of their labelled F.O.B. boxes, in a death that was not even a death, for there had never been a life.

I am not afraid of robots. I am afraid of people, people, people. I want them to remain human.

Evo ti, Montag! Nije do ovoga došlo odozgor, od vlade! Nije bilo nikakve naredbe, nikakve obznane, nikakve cenzure isprva, ne! Tehnologija, masovna eksploatacija i pritisak manjina polu?ili su cilj, Bogu hvala. Danas, zahvaljuju?i njima, sve vrijeme možeš biti sretan, dopušteno ti je ?itati stripove, dobre stare vjerske knjige ili stru?ne ?asopise. str. 63.

You think too many things,' said Montag, uneasily. 'I rarely watch the parlour walls or go to the races or Fun Parks. So I've lots of time for crazy thoughts, I guess...

Solo resta mencionar una predicción que mi Bombero jefe, Beatty, hizo en 1953, en medio de mi libro. Se refería a la posibilidad de quemar libros sin cerillas ni fuego. Porque no hace falta quemar libros si el mundo empieza a llenarse de gente que no lee, que no aprende, que no sabe.