Ray Bradbury is Dead

Which reminds me how much I liked Fahrenheit 451 when I read it in grade school. It was a bit much for me to process, actually. I might have to re-read it.

It was a pleasure to burn.

It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history.

Whatever else, that’s a damn fine opening.