It was a joy to start the fire. was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of do not know what it sounded conductor all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on the solid head, his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what would happen next time, the man pressed the ignition button, and the house jumped in a blaze that began to scaffoldings devouring the evening sky and yellow and brown very ...*
Happy Birthday Ray!
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* Incipit of Fahrenheit 451
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