Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the Universe together into one garment for us.
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Too late, I found you can't wait to become perfect, you got to go out and fall down and get up with everybody else.
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Ignorance is fatal.
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And sleeping put an end to summer, 1928.
bradbury dreams promise young
For if we're destroyed, the knowledge is dead.. We're nothing more than dust jackets for books.. So many pages to a person..
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I got a statistic for you right now. Grab your pencil, Doug. There are five billion trees in the world. I looked it up. Under every tree is a shadow, right? So, then, what makes night? I'll tell you: shadows crawling out from under five billion trees! Think of it! Shadows running around in the air, muddying the waters you might say. If only we could figure a way to keep those darn five billion shadows under those trees, we could stay up half the night, Doug, because there'd be no night!
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The world, like a great iris of an even more gigantic eye, which has also just opened and stretched out to encompass everything, stared back at him.
bradbury dandelion-wine world
Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.
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