Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them.

And they were all, when their souls grew warm, poets.

Don't they get afraid, then?" "They have a religion for that.

I’m really alive! he thought. I never knew it before, or if I did I don’t remember!

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

I write all of my novels and stories, as you have seen, in a great surge of delightful passion. Only recently, glancing at the novel, I realized that Montag is named after a paper manufacturing company. And Faber, of course, is a maker of pencils! What a sly thing my subconscious was, to name them thus. And not tell me!

Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper.