Explore Quotes by Ray Bradbury

I’m the thing you most desire, you represent the thing I least desire, death. It’s just the opposite of love.

Poetry expands the senses and keeps them in prime condition. It keeps you aware of your nose, your eye, your ear, your tongue, your hand.

Forget them. Burn all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.

...trees to cool the towns in the boiling summer, trees to hold back the winter winds. There were so many things a tree could do: add color, provide shade, drop fruit, or become a children's playground, a whole sky universe to climb and hang from; an architecture of food and pleasure, that was a tree. But most of all the trees would distill an icy air for the lungs, and a gentle rustling for the ear when you lay nights in your snowy bed and were gentled to sleep by the sound.

Those who don't build must burn. It's as old as history and juvenile delinquents.

I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it’ll make sense.

Good to evil seems evil

Beware the autumn people

When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die.

We need our Arts to teach us how to breathe

A story should be like a river, flowing and never stopping, your readers passengers on a boat, whirling downstream through constantly refreshing and changing scemery.

Hello!" He said hello and then said, "What are you up to now?" "I'm still crazy. The rain feels good. I love to walk in it. "I don't think I'd like that," he said. "You might if you tried." "I never have." She licked her lips. "Rain even tastes good." "What do you do, go around trying everything once?" he asked. "Sometimes twice.

Good writers touch life often.

I'm numb and I'm tired. Too much has happened today. I feel as if I'd been out in a pounding rain for forty-eight hours without an umbrella or a coat. I'm soaked to the skin with emotion.

But no man's a hero to himself. I've lived with me a lifetime. I know everything worth knowing about myself--" ~Something Wicked This Way Comes

How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you?

I'll be damned if death wears my sadness for glad rags.

Why live? Life was its own answer. Life was the propagation of more life and the living of as good a life as possible.

But no man's a hero to himself.

You're insane!" "I won't argue that point.

I'm being ironic. Don't interrupt a man in the midst of being ironic, it's not polite. There!