Quotes About Fire

Trick, yes, trick.' The boys were catching fire with the idea. It made all the good glue go out of their joints and put a little dust of sin in their blood. They felt it stir around until it pumped on up to light their eyes and stretch their lips to show their happy-dog teeth. 'Yeah, sure

The wine still waits in the cellars below. My beloved family still sits on the porch in the dark. The fire balloon still drifts and burns in the night sky of an as yet unburied summer. Why and how? Because I say it is so.

And then he was a shrieking blaze, a jumping, sprawling gibbering manikin, no longer human or known, all writhing flame on the lawn as Montag shot one continuous pulse of liquid fire on him.

The suit caught light and stirred like a bed of black tweed-thorns, interminably itching, covering the man's long body with motion so it seemed he should excruciate, cry out, and tear the clothes free.

You must remember, burn them or they'll burn you.

Tú no estabas allí, tú no la viste —insistió él—. Tiene que haber algo en los libros, cosas que no podemos imaginar para hacer que una mujer permanezca en una casa que arde. Ahí tiene que haber algo. Uno no se sacrifica por nada.

You weren't there, you didn't see,' he said. 'There must be something in books, things we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing.

They don't know that this is all one huge big blazing meteor that makes a pretty fire in space, but that someday it'll have to hit.

There was a silence gathered all about that fire and the silence was in the men's faces, and time was there, time enough to sit by this rusting track under the trees, and look at the world and turn it over with the eyes, as if it were held to the center of the bonfire, a piece of steel these men were all shaping.

Montag looked at these men whose faces were sunburnt by a thousand real and ten thousand imaginary fires.

V?y Ä'ó! Má»™t cu?n sách là má»™t kh?u súng Ä'ã n?p ??n trong c?n nhà bên c?nh. ??t nó Ä'i. TÆ°á»›c phát ??n kh?i kh?u súng kia Ä'i. Xé to?c tâm trí con ng??i Ä'i. Ai bi?t ???c k? nào có th? là Ä'ích ng?m c?a ng??i ??c rá»™ng?

451° Fahrenheit: la temperatura a la que el papel de los libros se inflama y arde.

And as before, it was good to burn, he felt himself gush out in the fire, snatch, rend, rip in half with flame, and put away the senseless problem. If there was no solution, well then now there was no problem, either. Fire was best for everything.

He saw many hands held to its warmth, hands without arms, hidden in darkness. Above the hands, motionless faces that were only moved and tossed and flickered with firelight. He hadn't known fire could look this way. He had never thought in his life that it could give as well as take.

Fuego brillante Posfacio de Ray Bradbury, febrero de 1993

burn 'em to ashes, then burn the ashes. That's our official slogan.

And there, in the wilderness, the men all moved their hands, putting out the fire together.

Tu no estabas allí, tú no la viste -insistió él-. Tiene que haber algo en los libros, cosas que no podemos imaginar para hacer que una mujer permanezca en una casa que arde. Ahí tiene que haber algo. Uno no se sacrifica por nada.

It was not burning; it was warming! He saw many hands held to its warmth, hands without arms, hidden in darkness. Above the hands, motionless faces that were only moved and tossed and flickered with firelight. He hadn't known fire could look this way. He had never thought in his life that it could give as well as take. Even its smell was different.

Tiene que haber algo en los libros cosas que no podemos imaginar para hacer que una mujer permanezca en una casa que arde. Ahí tiene que haber algo. Uno no se sacrifica por nada.

Sit down, Montag. Watch. Delicately, like the petals of a flower. Light the first page, light the second page. Each becomes a black butterfly. Beautiful, eh? Light the third page, from the second and so on, chain-smoking, chapter by chapter, all the silly things the words mean, all the false promises, all the secondhand notions and time-worn philosophies.

The other men helped, and Montag helped, and there, in the wilderness, the men all moved their hands, putting out the fire together.

The ship came down from space. It came from the stars and the black velocities, and the shining movements, and the silent gulfs of space. It was a new ship; it had fire in its body and men in its metal cells, and it moved with a clean silence, fiery and warm.

Earth changed in the black sky. It caught fire. Part of it seemed to come apart in a million pieces, as if a gigantic jigsaw had exploded. It burned with an unholy dripping glare for a minute, three times normal size, then dwindled.