Beam Bradbury"It was an extraordinary delight to see things eaten, to see thingsdarkened and changed. With themetal spout in his clench hands, with this extraordinary pythonspitting its venomous lamp oil upon the world, theblood beat in his mind, and his hands were the hands of somestunning conductor playing allthe ensembles of bursting and torching to bring the worn spotsand charcoal vestiges of history.With his representative protective cap numbered 451 on hisindifferent head, and his eyes all orange fire with theconsidered what came straightaway, he flicked the igniter and thehouse hopped up in a pigging out fire thatconsumed the night sky red and yellow and dark. He stepped in amultitude of fireflies. He neededmost importantly, similar to the old joke, to push a marshmallowon a stick in the heater, while the flutteringpigeon-winged books passed on the yard and grass of the house.While the books went up in
shining spins and overwhelmed on a breeze turned dim withconsuming."