STRANGE in Classic Quotes
Simple words can express big ideas - learn how great writers to make beautiful sentences with common words.
Quotes from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
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| Current Search - strange in Fahrenheit 451 |
1 It was a strange quiet meeting.
2 What a strange meeting on a strange night.
3 Or talking about how strange the world is.
4 And in the middle of the strangeness, a familiarity.
5 And suddenly she was so strange he couldn't believe he knew her at all.
6 "It's strange, I don't miss her, it's strange I don't feel much of anything," said Montag.
7 That small motion, the white and red color, a strange fire because it meant a different thing to him.
8 It seemed so remote and no part of him; it was a play apart and separate, wondrous to watch, not without its strange pleasure.
9 Montag said nothing but stood looking at the women's faces as he had once looked at the face of saints in a strange church he had entered when he was a child.
10 He felt that the stars had been pulverized by the sound of the black jets and that in the morning the earth would be covered with their dust like a strange snow.
11 It growled again, a strange rasping combination of electrical sizzle, a frying sound, a scraping of metal, a turning of cogs that seemed rusty and ancient with suspicion.
12 But there was nothing, nothing; it was a stroll through another store, and his currency strange and unusable there, and his passion cold, even when he touched the wood and plaster and clay.
13 On the way downtown he was so completely alone with his terrible error that he felt the necessity for the strange warmness and goodness that came from a familiar and gentle voice speaking in the night.
14 How strange, strange, to want to die so much that you let a man walk around armed and then instead of shutting up and staying alive, you go on yelling at people and making fun of them until you get them mad, and then.
15 And then, to the sound of death, the sound of the jets cutting the sky in two black pieces beyond the horizon, he would lie in the loft, hidden and safe, watching those strange new stars over the rim of the earth, fleeing from the soft color of dawn.
16 Montag stood looking in now at this queer house, made strange by the hour of the night, by murmuring neighbor voices, by littered glass, and there on the floor, their covers torn off and spilled out like swan feathers, the incredible books that looked so silly and really not worth bothering with, for these were nothing but black type and yellowed paper and raveled binding.