Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Ray Bradbury

Quote by Ray Bradbury

“Downstairs, she thought, they are polishing the silver, and rummaging the cellar, and dusting the halls. She could hear them living all through the house. "It's all right," whispered Great-grandma, as the dream floated her. "Like everything else in this life, it's fitting." And the sea moved her back down the shore.”

Quote by Ray Bradbury

Author

Ray Bradbury
Ray Bradbury

Ray Bradbury, born on August 22, 1920, and died on June 5, 2012, was an influential American science fiction writer, playwright, and poet. His works are known for their unique imagination and profound philosophical insights, which have had a profound impact on the science fiction genre. more

You May Also Like

“I remember one of the last things Mother said to us, one of the very last things. In my mind, it has become the last thing, and maybe it was. She was lying on the cedar frame bed in the back bed-room in the early summer, with the bed moved over right against the window. The window was open to let the breeze and birdsong and sunlight in, the light rushing in through the lace curtains. She had lost a lot of weight and had had a hard time, but was never more beautiful in the way that there can be nothing more beautiful than dignity. "I've seen a lot," she said, and smiled, and it was not an act for us, it was not a thing said for our benefit. She was just saying it, and smiling. She was just brave, was all.”

“I remember clearly in the hospital how I felt this strange closeness with God, how I did not feel like dry grass. I was becoming less and less, but I becoming less and less, but I was not reduced to nothing God's love was everywhere, sticking to everything. Love was in my husband's hand on my back, steadying me, a lightness under my feet, all over Zach's velvety wars. I flushed with embarrassment when I described this feeling to my friends, stumbling as I tried to explain its sudden appearance (Wasn't it there before?), that love itself was suddenly more real to me than my own thoughts. Despair was never far away, but somehow the seams of the universe had come undone, and all the splendid, ragged edges were showing. And they brought me close than I've e ed been to the truth of this experiment— living— and how the horror and the beauty of it feels almost blinding.”

“She hated flowers, and I wondered why That was; When diamonds less radiant Diminished her gloom, And she delighted in the fragrance of her favorite perfume. She hated that they withered and faded, I thought; That their petals broke loose, And they barely hung on. She hated that they were thrown away, With every trace of them gone. They were delicate and fragile like her, I’d say; The kind of thing She felt so undeserving of. It’s such taxing work for the weary, Simply to nurture and love. She clung to her own greenness and vigor, I thought. Exquisite as they were, They brought too much sorrow; She detested caring for those that, Would not need her tomorrow. She was too oppressed to provide refuge, I found. I heard heartbreaking stories, Where she had it rough. She did the best she could, I know, But it was just never enough. She is every bit like the flowers, You know, Warms your vulnerable heart, With kindness and grace; Brings happy tears to your eyes, And the most joyful smile to your face! She regales like a queen, and she stuns, I say; And I love her, As I do those flowers she hates! Some have penetrable walls, you know; She has padlocked iron gates.”