Watch Out This Is Alex Being A Nerd Again

I just thought this would be a little fun of course, if I change my mind later on, this page might get deleted. lol. I've been reading a lot recently (or trying to) since I have a LONG~ list of books now I have to read. In doing this little fun activity of mine, I wanted to share some random pieces of stories that are just..mhm…exquisite. Either things that are thoughtful, intriguing, fascinating, beautifully worded…all the things you would expect someone who has a love of literature would find cool about writing itself.

In saying this, I want to also encourage other people to add to this, if they so wish to. There's always something out there that some people would find interesting. I want to hear them, too. ^^ Then I can always have more books/short stories and authors to explore (hooray!)

…heh. And you kinda have to wonder why I didn't stick with the English program. ^^;;

A Sound of Thunder by Ray Bradbury
(c) 1952

The sign on the door seemed to quaver under a film of sliding warm water. Eckels felt his eyelids blink over his stare, and the sign burned in this momentary darkness:


A warm phlegm gathered in Eckels' throat; he swallowed and pushed it down. The muscles around his mouth formed a smile as he put his hand slowly out upon the air, and in that hand waved a check for ten thousand dollars at the man behind the desk.

"Does this safari guarantee that I come back alive?"

"We guarantee nothing," said the official, "except the dinosaurs."

The Foghorn by Ray Bradbury
(c) 1951

That's life for you," said McDunn. "Someone always waiting for someone who never comes home. Always someone loving some thing more than that thing loves them. And after a while you want to destroy whatever that thing is, so it can't hurt you no more."

The Big Black and White Game by Ray Bradbury
(c) 1945

…their expressions didn't say, "Look at me run, look at me run!" No, not at all. Their faces dreamily said, "Lord, but it's sure nice to run. See the ground swell soft under me? Gosh, I feel good. My muscles are moving like oil on my bones and it's the best picture in the world to run." And they ran. There was no purpose to their running but exhilaration and living.

The white men worked at their running as they worked at everything. You felt embarrassed for them because they were alive too much in the wrong way. Always looking from the corners of their eyes to see if you're watching. Negroes didn't care if you watched or not; they went on living, moving. They were so sure of playing that they didn't have to think about it any more.

Powerhouse by Ray Bradbury
(c) 1948

You had all sorts of peek holes in your head. A silly, strange way to put it, perhaps, but there were holes; the ones you see through and see that the world was there and people in it, as hard put to and uneasy as yourself; and there were the holes for hearing, and one for the speaking out your grief and getting rid of it, and the holes for knowing the changes of the season through the scents of summer grain or winter ice or autumn fires. They were there to be used so that one was not alone. Loneliness was the shutting of the eyes.

Touched With Fire by Ray Bradbury
(c) 1954

To his horror the door got free of his grip and floated too swiftly inward, leaving them like actors trapped on-stage when a curtain rises too soon.

{same story}

She ripped a dog-eared packet of cheap cigarettes like it was a bone with meat on it, snapped one of the cigarettes in her smeared mouth and lit it, sucking greedily on the smoke, jetting it through her thin nostrils until she was a feverish dragon confronting them in a fire clouded room.

The Next in Line by Ray Bradbury
(c) 1947

She did not think it unusual, her choice of the feminine pronoun. And already she had identified herself with that tiny fragment parceled like an unripe variety of fruit. Now, in this moment, she was being carried up the hill within compressing darkness, a stone in a peach, silent and terrified, the touch of the father against the coffin material outside; gentle and noiseless and firm inside.

{same story}

She could not speak to him for she knew no words that he knew and he said nothing that she understood…

Angels & Demons by Dan Brown
(c) 2000

"'Mr. Langdon, all questions were once spiritual. Since the beginning of time, spirituality and religion have been called on to fill in the gaps that science did not understand. The rising and setting of the sun was once attributed to Helios and a flaming chariot. Earthquakes and tidal waves were the wrath of Poseidon. Science has now proven those gods to be false idols. Soon all Gods will be proven to be false idols. Science has now provided answers to almost every question man can ask. There are only a few questions left, and they are the esoteric ones. Where do we come from? What are we doing here? What is the meaning of life and the universe?"

Langdon was amazed. "And these are questions CERN is trying to answer?"

"Correction. These are questions we are answering."

Angels & Demons by Dan Brown
(c) 2000

"The Glass Cathedral," the escort offered.

"A church?"

"Hell, no. A church is the one thing we don't have. Physics is the religion around here. Use the Lord's name in vain all you like," he laughed, "just don't slander any quarks or mesons."

Angels & Demons by Dan Brown
(c) 2000

Langdon drew a cold breath before racing on. "Obliteration of Catholicism was the Illuminati's central covenant. The brotherhood held that the superstitious dogma spewed forth by the church was mankind's greatest enemy. They feared that if religion continued to promote pious myth as absolute fact, scientific progress would halt, and mankind would be doomed to an ignorant future of senseless holy wars."

"Much like we see today."

Langdon frowned. Kohler was right. Holy wars were still making headlines. My God is better than your God. It seemed there was always correlation between true believers and high body counts.

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