Ray Bradbury
Image Attribution: Alan Light (CC BY 2.0)
Image Attribution: Alan Light (CC BY 2.0)
The flutter of cards, motion of hands, of eyelids, the drone of the time-voice in the firehouse ceiling "…one thirty-five, Thursday morning, November 4th, …one thirty-six …one thirty-seven a.m.…" The tick of the playing cards on the greasy table top, all the sounds came to Montag, behind his closed eyes, behind the barrier he had momentarily erected. (…)
"What’s wrong, Montag?"
Montag opened his eyes.
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