Ray Bradbury

He stood very straight and thought of nothing, or at least thought of thinking nothing.

Anna said, “Must they have a reason?”

“No, not if they’re insane, no,” said Juliet. “In that case no reasons are necessary.”

All the sadder that Stone, on the brink of his greatest work, turned one day and went off to live in a town we shall call Obscurity by the sea best named The Past.

Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before Death is what counts.

The first thing you learn in life is you’re a fool. The last thing you learn in life is you’re the same fool.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Well.” She started pouring tea. “To start things off, what do you think of the world?”

“I don’t know anything.”

“The beginning of wisdom, as they say. When you’re seventeen you know everything. When you’re twenty-seven if you still know everything you’re still seventeen.”

“You seem to have learned quite a lot over the years.”

“It is the privilege of old people to seem to know everything. But it’s an act and a mask, like every other act and mask. Between ourselves, we old ones wink at each other and smile, saying, How do you like my mask, my act, my certainty? Isn’t life a play? Don’t I play it well?”

They both laughed quietly.

“‘For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ's birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles—breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them.’”

We Earth Men have a talent for ruining big beautiful things. The only reason we didn’t set up hot-dog stands in the midst of the Egyptian temple of Karnak is because it was out of the way and served no large commercial purpose.

“It will only take a minute,” said Uncle Einar’s sweet wife.

“I refuse,” he said. “And that takes but a second.”

They began by controlling books of cartoons and then detective books and, of course, films, one way or another, one group or another, political bias, religious prejudice, union pressures; there was always a minority afraid of something, and a great majority afraid of the dark, afraid of the future, afraid of the past, afraid of the present, afraid of themselves and shadows of themselves.

The gods had gone away, and the ritual of the religion continued senselessly, uselessly.

Marriage made people old and familiar, while still young.