My Heart Did Not Beat, It Exploded.

“So while our art cannot, as we wish it could, save us from wars, privation, envy, greed, old age, or death, it can revitalize us amidst it all.”

— Ray Bradbury, “Zen in the Art of Writing”

Sunsets are loved because they vanish.

-- Ray Bradbury

(Cluj, Romania)

Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles, 1950

The Watchful Poker Chip of H. Matisse

“The mob-mind, said his subconscious. You're symbolic of the crowd. They came to study the dreadful vulgarity of this imaginary Mass Man they pretend to hate. But they're fascinated with the snake-pit.”

— Ray Bradbury

Sunsets are loved because they vanish.

-- Ray Bradbury

(Cluj, Romania)

“Why haven’t I stopped to think and smell the last thirty years?”

— Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

The Illustrated Man, Ray Bradbury

"...one thirty-five. Thursday morning, November 4th,... one thirty-six... one thirty-seven a.m...."[...]"...one forty-five..." The voice-clock mourned out the cold colour of a cold morning of a still colder year.

Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury

Why is it," he said, one time, at the subway entrance, "I feel I've known you so many years?" "Because I like you," she said, "and I don't want anything from you.

—Ray Bradbury

"All things, once seen, they didn’t just die, that couldn’t be. It must be then that somewhere, searching the world, perhaps in the dripping multiboxed honeycombs where light was an amber sap stored by pollen-fired bees, or in the thirty thousand lenses of the noon dragonfly’s gemmed skull you might find all the colors and sights of the world in any one year. Or pour one single drop of this dandelion wine beneath a microscope and perhaps the entire world of July Fourth would firework out in Vesuvius showers. This he would have to believe."

Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine