R.I.P. Ray Bradbury

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Ray Bradbury, the author of Fahrenheit 451, died last night at age 91...
I remember reading Fahrenheit my freshman year of high school, and it changed how I looked at the world.

Any thoughts?

I saw this on the news earlier...

My Stepdad made me watch the film, and said what it was about. That's all I have to do with it.

I have also read Fahrenheit 451. It was very interesting and almost as good as1984.

He sounds like a man who got life and is worth remembering.

Two days ago I read about him and wondered how long he was going to live - he was so old, after all.

he wrung every drop of goodness from his life, he milked it for all it was worth and then some. i can only imagine the quality of his afterlife existence.
"something wicked this way comes" and "the silver locusts" were my faves among his many masterworks. for those who are curious, matthew arnold's poetry was a big inspiration for him, specifically the poem "dover beach"-

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægæan, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

He's one of the greats. I met him once accidentally. I didn't know who he was. He was so kind and smiled a lot.

You're very fortunate. Fahrenheit 451 is one of my favorite books too. We've really lost a great man and a talented writer.

Maybe then I shouldn't ever wonder how long Stephen King is going to live He's my favorite writer.

May he rest in peace.

"The Pedestrian" is a short story by author Ray Bradbury.

In the story we encounter Leonard Mead, a citizen of a television-centered world in 2053. In the city, people stay home at night to watch TV. Mead enjoys walking through the city during the night, something which no one else does. On one of his usual walks he encounters a robotic police car. The police car struggles to understand why Mr. Mead would be out walking for no reason and decides to take him to the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies.

In an interview, Bradbury revealed that the inspiration for the story came when he was walking down Wilshire Blvd. in Waukegan IL with a friend. On their walk a police cruiser pulled up asked what they were doing. Bradbury answered "Well, we're putting one foot in front of the other." The policemen didn't appreciate Ray's joke and became suspicious of Bradbury and his friend for walking in an area where there were no pedestrians. After some arguing the policeman told them to go home and to not walk any more. Bradbury said "Yes, sir, I'll never walk again." Using this experience as inspiration he went home and wrote "The Pedestrian". (Cut from wiki)

And now it is true...

i believe that in the rarified heavenly land of the mind where he now resides, he don't need no stinkin' walkin'