Avi Quotes

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.

A sailor chooses the wind that takes the ship from a safe port. Ah, yes, but once you're abroad, as you have seen, winds have a mind of their own. Be careful, Charlotte, careful of the wind you choose.

Closed eyes, heart not beating, but a living love.

God take care of him, because he's my past and my future

I took a deep breath. 'For you I've got something better than love.' What's that?' I...trust you.' Why?' You'll never hurt me.' Thank you.' But...' But, what?' I said, 'That means I'll hurt you.' Why?' 'Cause, like I said, you'll never hurt me back.

The more men see of the world, the bigger their hearts

...apakah kebahagian harus negatif? (cerpen Avi)

The werewolf Senate hadn't been happy with the idea of a human alpha, and there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about the fact that I had something most male Weres wanted very, very badly...Maddy. Lake. Lily, Katie, Sloane, Avie, Sophie...

A sailor may choose the wind to ride out of seaport, but the wind has a mind of it's own.

Quant à moi, maintenant, j'ai fermé mon âme. Je ne dis plus à personne ce que je crois, ce que je pense et ce que j'aime. Me sachant condamné à l'horrible solitude, je regarde les choses, sans jamais émettre mon avis. Que m'importent les opinions, les querelles, les plaisirs, les croyances ! Ne pouvant rien partager avec personne, je me suis désintéressé de tout. Ma pensée, invisible, demeure inexplorée. J'ai des phrases banales pour répondre aux interrogations de chaque jour, et un sourire qui dit "oui", quand je ne veux même pas prendre la peine de parler.

It all depends on you. If you want it to be different,it will be different. Don't look at the world with your eyes but with your heart.

The cure for unhappiness...It's this: What a person needs is always more than they say.

I don't need no Smith and Wesson, man, I got Merriam and Webster.

For heaven's sake, don't write writing. Write reading!

Je suis seul au milieu de ces voix joyeuses et raisonnables. Tous ces types passent leur temps à s’expliquer, à reconnaître avec bonheur qu’ils sont du même avis. Quelle importance ils attachent, mon Dieu, à penser tous ensemble les mêmes choses.

Nous ne faisions rien de mal cet après-midi-là. Et c'est cela à mon avis le seul sens à donner à sa vie: trouver son bonheur sans augmenter la douleur du monde.

To think that we might easily have gone through life not knowing each other, missing all this free flow of love and ideas and warmth and sharing... We share really almost everything. (Avis DeVoto to Julia Child)

Pimps make the best librarians.

All I can think is that when you torment a person...the soul dies. When the soul dies, I suppose mercy dies, too.

It seems to me that you won't have had a proper series of adventures, unless you've gone through thick and thin.

Music is about bringing light to others.

Well, all I know is this—nothing you ever learn is really wasted, and will sometime be used.

There is a limit to how much a seer wishes to see.

I kept asking myself if I felt different, if I was different. The answer was always yes. I was no longer nothing… How odd, I thought; it had taken my mother’s death, Father Quinel’s murder, and the desire of others to kill me to claim a life of my own.

People are freer in America. But there are more tears.

I’m not gonna fuck you for money, Avi,” he growls. My gaze narrows at him. “Who says you’d be fucking me?

She can be fierce, but for all of that she's actually kindness itself.

There are those who'd rob a blind man of his eyelashes if they could.

Do you ever smile, boy?" he demanded. "If you can't laugh and smile, life is worthless. Do you hear me?" he yelled. "It's NOTHING!

Remember, lad," said the newt, "If it's going to be tommorow, it might as well be today. And if it is today, it could have been yesterday. If it was yesterday, then you're over and done with it, and can write your own book. Think about that.

Thoughts create emotions, emotions create feelings and feelings create behaviour. So it’s very important that our thoughts are positive, to attract the right people, events and circumstances into our lives.

You have come nearer to mastering a good many aspects of cooking than anyone except a handful of great chefs, and some day it will pay off. I know it will. You will just have to go on working, and teaching, and getting around, and spreading the gospel until it does. (Avis DeVoto to Julia Child)

Now give me a kiss, say you love me and off you go." "Sure, Aunt Lu," I said, and I gave her the kiss she wanted. Then I ran out and caught my bus. I didn't say I loved her. I guess I did. But asking someone to say they love you--and she always asked--is like buying yourself a birthday present. It's more than likely exactly what you want. But it must make you feel awfully sad to get it.

But how nice it is that one can come to know someone just through correspondence, and become really passionate friends.

Something Zachariah told me filled my mind and excited my heart: "A Sailor," he said, "chooses the wind that takes the ship from safe port......but winds have a mind of their home.

Jesus fucking Christ, don’t have a kid or get married because you’re worried about being alone,’ she said, rubbing my back. I sat upright in my chair and she held me by my shoulders. ‘Be alone, Jen. You know how to be alone without being lonely. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how much I wish I could do that? It’s a wonderful thing you’ve got going on there.’ Avi came into the kitchen and put the kettle

En quelque sorte, on avait l’air de traiter cette affaire en dehors de moi. Tout se déroulait sans mon intervention. Mon sort se réglait sans qu’on prenne mon avis. De temps en temps, j’avais envie d’interrompre tout le monde et de dire : «Mais tout de même, qui est l’accusé ? C’est important d’être l’accusé. Et j’ai quelque chose à dire.» Mais réflexion faite, je n’avais rien à dire.

Yes, it is hard to discover a truth. But it is much harder to be unable to do anything about it. It's as if you know for certain a building will collapse and not one soul―not even those within―will listen to your warning. Hearing truth makes many deaf.

Success for a woman means absolute surrender, in whatever direction. Whether she paints a picture, or loves a man, there is no division of labor possible in her economy. To the attainment of any end worth living for, a symmetrical sacrifice of her nature is compulsory upon her.

Si vos parents tombent dans une faute, avertissez-les avec grande douceur. Si vous les voyez déterminés à ne pas suivre vos avis, redoublez vos témoignages de respect, sans vous opposer. Quand même ils vous maltraiteraient, n’en ayez aucun ressentiment. 

It’s wonderful how much you can learn by just being quiet and listening. Sometimes you even learn the truth—or what seems to be the truth.

A green summer leaf Embraced by the frozen ice Keeps memories warm

Remove whatever you no longer need in your life, to make room for what you do need in your life.

Your reality is a reflection of yourself

Not for nothing are they called deadlines. By the time you reach the final line, sir, you are indeed dead.

No human being is ever going to love you more than you love yourself.

My, I get so depressed after a poor meal; that's why I can never stay in England for more than a week. Julia to Avis

@Backwardz_Avi: I’d give up candy for the rest of my life for one more kiss… He’s all the sugar I need.

Suburban sprawl has heavily damaged the balance of our cities, divorcing environmental context from design and removing the concept of scale from the creation of neighborhoods.

rara avis in terris nigroque simillima cygno” Juvenal___Satires Black Swan

I like every part of growing older except what happens to your feet. Written by Avis DeVoto to Julia Child in "As Always, Julia

If you hurt him, he’ll probably kill you. He’s…fragile.” “Fragile?” Avi echoed. “Yes. Fragile like a hand grenade,” Noah said. “Fucking handle with care or he’ll blow up your whole goddamn life.

All across America public libraries were, and are, being shut down, while prisons-with libraries-were, and are, being built. This has been a choice the American public has been making for over thirty years.

respond rather than react to situations, people or environment. Let go of limiting emotions such as fear, frustration and anger and start to express your emotions to others, this is essential to a healthy wellbeing.

Follow your heart. It will lead you to where you need to be.

I am perfect, I love and accept myself as I am.

Sometimes, by near accident, something exceptionally rare and special crosses your path. Life turns on your seeing clearly what’s in front of you.

Avi frowned. “I don’t know. We just have this thing. We, like, see each other and say mean things and then we go our separate ways. I didn’t want to be a stalker.” “Killing people is one thing but stalking…yeah, no. That’s where he draws the line,” Adam said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He drove into the spewing smoke of acres of burning truck tires and the planes descended and the transit cranes stood in rows at the marine terminal and he saw billboards for Hertz and Avis and Chevy Blazer, for Marlboro, Continental and Goodyear, and he realized that all the things around him, the planes taking off and landing, the streaking cars, the tires on the cars, the cigarettes that the drivers of the cars were dousing in their ashtrays--all these were on the billboards around him, systematically linked in some self-referring relationship that had a kind of neurotic tightness, an inescapability, as if the billboards were generating reality...

To think that we might easily have gone through life not knowing each other, missing all this free flow of love and ideas and warmth and sharing...

A mouse has to do what a mouse has to do

Magic," her mother said, "is a kind of hope. And wishes are like dreams. When we have them, we can make things change. Without, we stay the same.

When the cost of clinging on is higher than the cost of letting go, that’s when we will act, that’s when we often take decisive steps to change our Life.

Yet for quixotic reasons--namely, that I enjoyed writing obits--I had decided to scale back on articles about city life in order to write exclusively about the city's dead. For even less money. It was a strange and inexplicable career move.

It was so hard to be courageous. So hard to be a coward. Going forward or going back seemed equally awful. So much easier to do nothing. But if she did nothing, she would surely perish. What was she to do?

Then the silence came back, that awful silence that seemed to just take over. In that silence I kept hearing what I had said--heard it repeating itself over and over again like a stuck record. I wanted it to stop. I didn't want to say things like that anymore. I was sick of that kind of lying. I wished I could say something real. But the silence was too big.

The world is a wonder that somebody asked, nobody knows cause nobody has, Since love was created I love a lot, some people love a tiny dot, even the littlest of friendship can merge become huge and serge love. That's why the world was created , for loving,and adoring. so enjoy love to the max, because nobody will be waiting for you

Pimps make the best librarians. Psycho killers, the worst. Ditto con men. Gangsters, gunrunners, bank robbers- adept at crowd control, at collaborating with a small staff, at planning with deliberation and executing with contained fury- all possess the librarian's basic skill set.

I'm getting stale. I always do this time of year. I keep my nose to the grindestone and put in long hours and rustle up good meals and do all the chores and run errands and get along with people -- and have a fine time doing it and enjoy life. Then I realize, bang, that I'm tired and I don't want to wait on my family for a while and I wish I could go away somewhere and have people wait on me hand and foot, and dress up and go to restaurants and the theater and act like a woman of the world. I feel as if I'd been swallowed up whole by all these powerful DeVotos and I'd like to be me for a while with somebody who never heard the name.

Neither of my moms are technically witches," he says, primly. "We are just a highly intuitive family. With, uhh, an especially fine-tuned sense of impending doom." "Mine too," I tell him. "It’s called being Jewish. Doesn’t make me magic.

We can’t control everything that happens to us, but we can control how we respond to things we can’t control.

The last time I looked," Avon pointed out, "the world isn't bigger than the universe, though I'm willing to admit I've never actually measured it.

The universe only exist within us. All of what is outside of us is also within us.

Of course, an old wine is like an old lady, and traveling can disturb her.

Start where you left off; do not avoid the difficult parts

If you do not completely accept yourself, you can not love yourself fully. It would be hard to love anything unconditionally.

It is only by ignoring fact, science, and reason that one can support current Republican positions.

When a young man talks to an old man, it is always a gift.

I flipped to the author’s photo in the Library of America edition of O’Connor’s collected works, and forked it over. Solitary examined the photo. “Okay,” she said, handing it back, “I’ll read it.” What in Flannery O’Connor’s countenance met with Solitary’s approval? “I dunno,” she said. “She looks kind of busted up, y’know? She ain’t too pretty. I trust her.

Un uomo è la storia dei suoi respiri e pensieri, azioni, atomi e ferite, amori, indifferenze e antipatie; nonché della sua razza e nazione, del suolo che ha nutrito lui e i suoi avi, di pietre e sabbia dei suoi luoghi familiari, battaglie spente da tempo e conflitti di coscienza, di sorrisi di fanciulle e lento discorrere di vecchie, degli accidenti e dell'agire graduale della legge inesorabile, di tutto questo e altro ancora, una singola fiamma che obbedisce in tutto alle leggi che regolano il Fuoco stesso, e tuttavia è accesa e smorzata da un istante all'altro, e non può più essere riaccesa per tutti i secoli a venire.

Avie Tevanian, a lanky and gregarious engineer at NeXT who had become Jobs’s friend, remembers that every now and then, when they were going out to dinner, they would stop by Chrisann’s house to pick up Lisa. “He was very sweet to her,” Tevanian recalled. “He was a vegetarian, and so was Chrisann, but she wasn’t. He was fine with that. He suggested she order chicken, and she

Follow your heart and what it's saying, after you die, an when you live. What he/ she lives is what she/he is giving to you . Enjoy it and you'll be happy. Love isn't a game ,love is a portrait, of a beautiful butterfly flapping it's wings to the horizon.

His elegant librarianship ... made me appreciate how order is created: Not through grand schemes - to which I was often drawn - but by small graceful actions, repeated often and refined with time.

They say the most powerful prayer is simply saying “Thank You”. And the best way to say “Thank You” is to serve others, to help make our broken world a better place! Inspire everyone at home to pitch in. Remember, the family that serves together is happy – and stays together!!

While Arab governments and Palestinian leaders were willing to participate in a new and more reasonable UN peace initiative in 1948, the Israelis assassinated the UN peace mediator, Count Bernadotte, and rejected the suggestion of the Palestine Conciliation Commission (PCC), a UN body, to reopen negotiations. This intransigent view would continue; Avi Shlaim has shown in The Iron Wall that, contrary to the myth that the Palestinians never missed an opportunity to miss peace, it was Israel that constantly rejected the peace offers that were on the table.

I think you’re more an archivist than a librarian,” he said. He told me that archivists and librarians were opposite personas. True librarians are unsentimental. They’re pragmatic, concerned with the newest, cleanest, most popular books. Archivists, on the other hand, are only peripherally interested in what other people like, and much prefer the rare to the useful. ”They like everything,” he said, “gum wrappers as much as books.” He said this with a hint of disdain. ”Librarians like throwing away garbage to make space, but archivists,” he said, “they’re too crazy to throw anything out.” ”You’re right,” I said. ”I’m more of an archivist.” ”And I’m more of a librarian,” he said. ”Can we still be friends?

Comme ils ne supportent pas l'ignorance, les hommes créent des savoirs. Ils inventent des myths, ils inventent des dieux, ils inventent un dieu, ils inventent des sciences. Les dieux changent, se succèdent, meurent, les modèles cosmolgiques également, et ne persiste qu'une ambiance, celle d'expliquer.

It was as if the sun had been stolen. Only thin ribbons of light seeped down through the green and milky air, air syrupy with the scent of pine, huckleberry, and juniper. From the rolling, emerald-carpeted earth, fingers of lacy ferns curled up, above which the massive fir and pine trees stood, pillar-like, to support an invisible sky. Hovering over everything was a silence as deep as the trees were tall.

The essence of intelligent living is to do what you can and must do while thriving with the unknown, with uncertainty. So, don’t wish the darkness away, don’t wait for the clouds to clear, embrace your current reality and do whatever you can best do in the circumstances. You will be amazed with how happy you can really be with what is.

Pimps make the best librarians. Psycho killers, the worst. Ditto conmen. Gangsters, gun runners, bank robbers – adept at crowd control, at collaborating with a small staff, at planning with deliberation and executing with contained fury – all possess the librarian’s basic skill set. Scalpers and loan sharks certainly have a role to play. But even they lack that something, the je ne sais quoi, the elusive it. What would a pimp call it? Yes: the love.

Chinnan chirukkiLiyE kaNNammA selvak-kaLanjiyamE Ennaik-kali theerthey ulagil Etram puriya vandAi PiLLaik-kaniyamudE kaNNammA pEsum por-chittiramE ALLi aNaittiDavE en munnE Adi varum tEnE Odi varugaiyilE kaNNammA uLLam kuLirudaDi Adi-tiridhal kaNDAl unnaip-pOi Avi tazhuvudaDI Ucchi tanai mughandAl garuvam Ongi vaLarudaDi Mecchi unnai oorar pugazhndAl mEni shilirkkudaDI Kannattil muttamittal uLLam thAn kaL veri koLLudaDi Unnait-tazhuvidilO kaNnammA unnatham,AgudaDI Un kaNNil neer vazhindAl ennenjil udiram koTTudaDi En kaNNin pAvaiyanrO kaNNammA ennuyir ninradanrO?

Edward," said Avon with a sigh, "maybe I shouldn't be a writer or an author. I had no idea it would be so hard." "Be a reader then." "Is that easier?" "Actually, it's much harder." "I don't understand," said Avon. "Avon, what's writing? Scribbled letters on paper. It's the reader who has to make sense of it.

This morning's pastry poses challenges. To assemble the tiny mosaic disks of chocolate flake and candied ginger, Avis must execute a number of discrete, ritualistic steps: scraping the chocolate with a fine grater, rolling the dough cylinder in large-grain sanding sugar, and assembling the ingredients atop each hand-cut disk of dough in a pointillist collage. Her husband wavers near the counter, watching. "They're like something Marie Antoinette would wear around her neck. When she still had one." "I thought she was more interested in cake," Avis says, she tilts her narrow shoulders, veers around him to stack dishes in the sink.

Suddenly, as Avis clung to her father’s neck and ear while, with a casual arm, the man enveloped his lumpy and large offspring, I saw Lolita’s smile lose all its light and become a frozen little shadow of itself, and the fruit knife slipped off the table and struck her with its silver handle a freak blow on the ankle which made her gasp, and crouch head forward, and then, jumping on one leg, her face awful with the preparatory grimace which children hold till the tears gush, she was gone — to be followed at once and consoled in the kitchen by Avis who had such a wonderful fat pink dad and a small chubby brother, and a brand-new baby sister, and a home, and two grinning dogs, and Lolita had nothing.

Rea­sons Why I Loved Be­ing With Jen I love what a good friend you are. You’re re­ally en­gaged with the lives of the peo­ple you love. You or­ga­nize lovely ex­pe­ri­ences for them. You make an ef­fort with them, you’re pa­tient with them, even when they’re side­tracked by their chil­dren and can’t pri­or­i­tize you in the way you pri­or­i­tize them. You’ve got a gen­er­ous heart and it ex­tends to peo­ple you’ve never even met, whereas I think that ev­ery­one is out to get me. I used to say you were naive, but re­ally I was jeal­ous that you al­ways thought the best of peo­ple. You are a bit too anx­ious about be­ing seen to be a good per­son and you def­i­nitely go a bit over­board with your left-wing pol­i­tics to prove a point to ev­ery­one. But I know you re­ally do care. I know you’d sign pe­ti­tions and help peo­ple in need and vol­un­teer at the home­less shel­ter at Christ­mas even if no one knew about it. And that’s more than can be said for a lot of us. I love how quickly you read books and how ab­sorbed you get in a good story. I love watch­ing you lie on the sofa read­ing one from cover-to-cover. It’s like I’m in the room with you but you’re in a whole other gal­axy. I love that you’re al­ways try­ing to im­prove your­self. Whether it’s running marathons or set­ting your­self chal­lenges on an app to learn French or the fact you go to ther­apy ev­ery week. You work hard to be­come a bet­ter ver­sion of your­self. I think I prob­a­bly didn’t make my ad­mi­ra­tion for this known and in­stead it came off as ir­ri­ta­tion, which I don’t re­ally feel at all. I love how ded­i­cated you are to your fam­ily, even when they’re an­noy­ing you. Your loy­alty to them wound me up some­times, but it’s only be­cause I wish I came from a big fam­ily. I love that you al­ways know what to say in con­ver­sa­tion. You ask the right ques­tions and you know ex­actly when to talk and when to lis­ten. Ev­ery­one loves talk­ing to you be­cause you make ev­ery­one feel im­por­tant. I love your style. I know you think I prob­a­bly never no­ticed what you were wear­ing or how you did your hair, but I loved see­ing how you get ready, sit­ting in front of the full-length mir­ror in our bed­room while you did your make-up, even though there was a mir­ror on the dress­ing ta­ble. I love that you’re mad enough to swim in the English sea in No­vem­ber and that you’d pick up spi­ders in the bath with your bare hands. You’re brave in a way that I’m not. I love how free you are. You’re a very free per­son, and I never gave you the sat­is­fac­tion of say­ing it, which I should have done. No one knows it about you be­cause of your bor­ing, high-pres­sure job and your stuffy up­bring­ing, but I know what an ad­ven­turer you are un­der­neath all that. I love that you got drunk at Jack­son’s chris­ten­ing and you al­ways wanted to have one more drink at the pub and you never com­plained about get­ting up early to go to work with a hang­over. Other than Avi, you are the per­son I’ve had the most fun with in my life. And even though I gave you a hard time for al­ways try­ing to for al­ways try­ing to im­press your dad, I ac­tu­ally found it very adorable be­cause it made me see the child in you and the teenager in you, and if I could time-travel to any­where in his­tory, I swear, Jen, the only place I’d want to go is to the house where you grew up and hug you and tell you how beau­ti­ful and clever and funny you are. That you are spec­tac­u­lar even with­out all your sports trophies and mu­sic cer­tifi­cates and in­cred­i­ble grades and Ox­ford ac­cep­tance. I’m sorry that I loved you so much more than I liked my­self, that must have been a lot to carry. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you the way you took care of me. And I’m sorry I didn’t take care of my­self, ei­ther. I need to work on it. I’m pleased that our break-up taught me that. I’m sorry I went so mental. I love you. I always will. I'm glad we met.

For days I kept imagining the fate of the world's misplaced letters. I started noticing them everywhere. All the right letters sitting on desks and dressers, slipped into purses, abandoned in email Draft folders, forever sealed and unsent. Shredded. Forgotten, sometimes intentionally. And the wrong letters, placed in someone else's hands - which, once delivered, may never be taken back. Emailed and immediately regretted.

I am in a state about all of this. I comb the newspapers. I listen to the commentators. And I get into fights all over the place. If a Republican knows his place and hates McCarthy and wishes to God Eisenhower would get more aggressive about these bastards, well and good and I will admit him to the brotherhood. If he says nasty things about Truman (who is rapidly becoming the Man I Love although I have been sore enough at him in my time) or still thinks taxes are coming down and we can get out of Korea‡ and we ought to fire all the Democrats in Washington and don’t worry, McCarthy-ism will blow over or alternately Where There’s Smoke There’s Fire—well, dear, I am no lady and I argue loudly and lose my temper and it’s disgraceful.

Laurence, not sure what to do, remained standing below the steps. "And who is this?" Mrs Hamlyn asked. Patrick looked back. "His name is . . . Laurence, mistress." Mrs Hamlyn scrutinized the boy before her. "Where does he come from?" she said, finding him scrawny and dirty. "He came to America on the same ship we did." Mrs Hamlyn pursed her lips. "He's very ragged. Is he from Ireland too?" "England." "But a friend of yours?" Laurence and Patrick looked at each other. "Is he?" Mrs Hamlyn asked again. Patrick said, "He saved my life, twice." "Did he? Then he must be a good friend indeed.

EDIPO - Non venirmi più a dire che non ho fatto ciò che era meglio, non darmi più consigli. Io non so con quali occhi, vedendo, avrei guardato mio padre, una volta disceso nell'Ade, o la misera madre: verso entrambi ho commesso atti, per cui non sarebbe bastato impiccarmi. O forse potevo desiderare la vista dei figli, nati come nacquero? No davvero, mai, per i miei occhi; e neppure la città, né le mura, né le sacre immagini degli dèi: di tutto ciò io sventuratissimo, l'uomo più illustre fra i Tebani, privai me stesso, proclamando che tutti scacciassero l'empio, l'individuo rivelato agli dèi impuro e figlio di Laio. Dopo avere denunziato così la mia infamia, dovevo guardare a fronte alta questi cittadini? No, affatto: anzi, se fosse stato possibile otturare nelle mie orecchie anche la fonte dell'udito, non avrei esitato a sbarrare del tutto questo misero corpo, così da essere sordo, oltre che cieco. È dolce per l'animo dimorare fuori dai mali. Ahi, Citerone, perché mi accogliesti? Perché, dopo avermi preso, non mi uccidesti subito, così che io non rivelassi mai agli uomini da chi sono nato? O Polibo e Corinto, e voi, che credevo antiche dimore degli avi, quale bellezza colma di male nutrivate in me: ora scopro d'essere uno sventurato, nato da sventurati! O tre strade e nascosta vallata, o querceto e gola alla convergenza delle tre vie, che beveste il sangue di mio padre, il mio, dalle mie stesse mani versato, vi ricordate di me? Quali delitti commisi presso di voi, e quali altri poi, giunto qui, ancora commisi! O nozze, voi mi generaste: e dopo avermi generato suscitaste ancora lo stesso seme, e mostraste padri, fratelli, figli, tutti dello stesso sangue; e spose insieme mogli e madri, e ogni cosa più turpe che esiste fra gli uomini. Ma, poiché ciò che non è bello fare non bisogna neppure dire, nascondetemi al più presto, per gli dèi, via di qui, o uccidetemi, o precipitatemi in mare, dove non mi vedrete mai più. Venite, non disdegnate di toccare un infelice; datemi ascolto, non temete: i miei mali nessun altro mortale può portarli, tranne me. Sofocle, Edipo Re [Esodo]

Augmentez la dose de sports pour chacun, développez l'esprit d'équipe, de compétition, et le besoin de penser est éliminé, non ? Organiser, organisez, super-organisez des super-super-sports. Multipliez les bandes dessinées, les films; l'esprit a de moins en moins d'appétits. L'impatience, les autos-trades sillonnées de foules qui sont ici, là, partout, nulle part. Les réfugiés du volant. Les villes se transforment en auberges routières; les hommes se déplacent comme des nomades suivant les phases de la lune, couchant ce soir dans la chambre où tu dormais à midi et moi la veille. (1re partie) On vit dans l'immédiat. Seul compte le boulot et après le travail l'embarras du choix en fait de distractions. Pourquoi apprendre quoi que ce soit sinon à presser les boutons, brancher des commutateurs, serrer des vis et des écrous ? Nous n'avons pas besoin qu'on nous laisse tranquilles. Nous avons besoin d'être sérieusement tracassés de temps à autre. Il y a combien de temps que tu n'as pas été tracassée sérieusement ? Pour une raison importante je veux dire, une raison valable ? - Tu dois bien comprendre que notre civilisation est si vaste que nous ne pouvons nous permettre d'inquiéter ou de déranger nos minorités. Pose-toi la question toi-même. Que recherchons-nous, par-dessus tout, dans ce pays ? Les gens veulent être heureux, d'accord ? Ne l'as-tu pas entendu répéter toute la vie ? Je veux être heureux, déclare chacun. Eh bien, sont-ils heureux ? Ne veillons-nous pas à ce qu'ils soient toujours en mouvement, toujours distraits ? Nous ne vivons que pour ça, c'est bien ton avis ? Pour le plaisir, pour l'excitation. Et tu dois admettre que notre civilisation fournit l'un et l'autre à satiété. Si le gouvernement est inefficace, tyrannique, vous écrase d'impôts, peu importe tant que les gens n'en savent rien. La paix, Montag. Instituer des concours dont les prix supposent la mémoire des paroles de chansons à la mode, des noms de capitales d'État ou du nombre de quintaux de maïs récoltés dans l'Iowa l'année précédente. Gavez les hommes de données inoffensives, incombustibles, qu'ils se sentent bourrés de "faits" à éclater, renseignés sur tout. Ensuite, ils s'imagineront qu'ils pensent, ils auront le sentiment du mouvement, tout en piétinant. Et ils seront heureux, parce que les connaissances de ce genre sont immuables. Ne les engagez pas sur des terrains glissants comme la philosophie ou la sociologie à quoi confronter leur expérience. C'est la source de tous les tourments. Tout homme capable de démonter un écran mural de télévision et de le remonter et, de nos jours ils le sont à peu près tous, est bien plus heureux que celui qui essais de mesurer, d'étalonner, de mettre en équations l'univers ce qui ne peut se faire sans que l'homme prenne conscience de son infériorité et de sa solitude. Nous sommes les joyeux drilles, les boute-en-train, toi, moi et les autres. Nous faisons front contre la marée de ceux qui veulent plonger le monde dans la désolation en suscitant le conflit entre la théorie et la pensée. Nous avons les doigts accrochés au parapet. Tenons bon. Ne laissons pas le torrent de la mélancolie et de la triste philosophie noyer notre monde. Nous comptons sur toi. Je ne crois pas que tu te rendes compte de ton importance, de notre importance pour protéger l'optimisme de notre monde actuel.