Ray Bradbury Quotes
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You let the story cool off and then, instead of rewriting it, you relive it.
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Self-consciousness is the enemy of all art, be it acting, writing, painting, or living itself, which is the greatest art of all.
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We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.
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He raged for hours. And the skeleton, ever the frail and solelmn philosopher, hung quietly inside, saying not a word, suspended like a delicate insect within a chrysalis, waiting and waiting.
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The first stories I wrote when I was 12 were about Mars and landing on Mars.
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We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?
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For about 150 days a year in Venice, the sun doesn't show through the mist until noon.
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Your mind's always juggling, isn't it?-mirrors, torches, plates.
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Facts are not interesting to me.
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And what, you ask, does writing teach us? First and foremost, it reminds us that we are alive and that it is a gift and a privilege, not a right.
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If you dream the proper dreams, and share the myths with people, they will want to grow up to be like you.
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My tunes and numbers are here. They have filled my years, the years when I refused to die. And in order to do that I wrote, I wrote, I wrote, at noon or 3:00 A.M. So as not to be dead.
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If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn.
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Far away, in the meadow, shadows flickered in the Mirror's Maze, as if parts of someone's life, yet unborn, were trapped there, waiting to be lived.
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What should I do?" "Throw up in your typewriter every morning." "Yeah." "Clean up every noon.
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Digression is the soul of wit. Take the philosophic asides away from Dante, Milton or Hamlet's father's ghost and what stays is dry bones.
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A library is all the university you will ever need.
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Love is easy, and I love writing. You can't resist love. You get an idea, someone says something, and you're in love.
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The television, that insidious beast, that Medusa which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little.
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Do three things each night before you go to bed: read a poem, read a short story, read an essay.
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These are all novels, all about people that never existed, the people that read them it makes them unhappy with their own lives. Makes them want to live in other ways they can never really be.
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Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.
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Don’t let people interfere with you. Boot ’em out, turn off the phone, hide away, get it done. If you carry a short story over to the next day you may overnight intellectualize something about it and try to make it too fancy, try to please someone.
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Dandelion wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered...sealed away for opening on a January day with snow falling fast and the sun unseen for weeks.