451 по фаренгейту
The Sieve and the Sand
Theoldmantookadeepbreath,heldit,andletitout.Hetookanother,eyesclosed,hismouthtight,andatlastexhaled."Montag..."
Theoldmanturnedatlastandsaid, "Comealong.Iwouldactuallyhaveletyouwalkrightoutofmyhouse.Iamacowardlyoldfool."
Faberopenedthebedroomdoor andledMontagintoasmallchamberwherestoodatableuponwhichanumberofmetaltoolslayamongawelterofmicroscopicwire-hairs, tinycoils,bobbins,andcrystals.
"What’sthis?"askedMontag.
"Proofofmyterriblecowardice. I’velivedalonesomanyyears,throwingimagesonwallswithmyimagination. Fiddlingwithelectronics,radio-transmission,hasbeenmyhobby. Mycowardiceisofsuchapassion,complementingtherevolutionaryspiritthatlivesinitsshadow,Iwasforcedtodesignthis."
Hepickedupasmallgreen-metalobjectnolargerthana22bullet.
"Ipaidforallthis—how?Playingthestock-market,ofcourse, thelastrefugeintheworldforthedangerousintellectualoutofajob. Well,IplayedthemarketandbuiltallthisandI’vewaited. I’vewaited,trembling,halfalifetimeforsomeonetospeaktome. Idaredspeaktonoone. Thatdayintheparkwhenwesattogether,Iknewthatsomedayyoumightdropby,withfireorfriendship,itwashardtoguess. I’vehadthislittleitemreadyformonths. ButIalmostletyougo,I’mthatafraid!"
"ItlookslikeaSeashellradio."
