Remember, the firemen are rarely necessary. The public itself stopped reading of its own accord. You firemen provide a circus now and then at which buildings are set off and crowds gather for the pretty blaze, but it’s a small sideshow indeed, and hardly necessary to keep things in line. So few want to be rebels any more. And out of those few, most, like myself, scare easily. Can you dance faster than the White Clown, shout louder than `Mr. Gimmick’ and the parlour `families’? If you can, you’ll win your way, Montag. In any event, you’re a fool. People are having fun.
-Faber, Farenheit 451
Frankenstein– Mary Shelley, February 1st, 1851.
The Time Machine– H.G. Wells, August 13th, 1946.
Brave New World– Aldous Huxley, November 22nd, 1963.
Farenheit 451– Ray Bradbury, June 5th, 2012.
The books that taught me the importance of science fiction are, today, all written by dead people. We have lost much, not just as people, but as a species. Looking forward we can never see where we are going but through imagination.
And it looks like we’re doing the same thing, over and over, but we’ve got one damn thing the Phoenix never had. We know the damn silly thing we just did. We know all the damn silly things we’ve done for a thousand years, and as long as we know that and always have it around where we can see it, some day we’ll stop making the goddam funeral pyres and jumping into the middle of them. We pick up a few more people that remember, every generation.
-Granger, Farenheit 451