Something Wicked This Way Comes (Green Town, #2)

by Ray Bradbury

Jim, at last, stretched like a cat, and turned his head. His green eyes got big and then very narrow.

what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder go when it dies?

it was time for their weekly jog to the library.

each other’s clay. That’s friendship, each playing the potter to see what shapes we can make of the other.

since when did you think being good meant being happy?”

“I’d be a fool not to know I’m a fool.

He had written books a lifetime, on the airs of vast rooms in vast buildings, and had it all fly out the vents. Now it all seemed fireworks, done for color, sound, the high architecture of words, to dazzle the boys, powder his ego, but with no mark left on retina or mind after the color and sound faded; a mere exercise in self-declamation.