451 по фаренгейту

           "Ready."Montagsnappedthesafety-catchontheflamethrower. 

           "Fire!" 

           Agreatnuzzlinggoutofflameleaptouttolapatthebooksandknockthemagainstthewall. Hesteppedintothebedroomandfiredtwiceandthetwinbedswentupinagreatsimmeringwhisper, withmoreheatandpassionandlightthanhewouldhavesupposedthemtocontain. Heburntthebedroomwallsandthecosmeticschestbecausehewantedtochangeeverything, thechairs,thetables,andinthedining-roomthesilverwareandplasticdishes, everythingthatshowedthathehadlivedhereinthisemptyhousewithastrangewomanwhowouldforgethimtomorrow, whohadgoneandquiteforgottenhimalready,listeningtoherSeashellradiopourinonherandinonherassherodeacrosstown,alone. Andasbefore,itwasgoodtoburn,hefelthimselfgushoutinthefire,snatch,rend,ripinhalfwithflame,andputawaythesenselessproblem. Iftherewasnosolution,wellthennowtherewasnoproblem,either. Firewasbestforeverything! 

           "Thebooks,Montag!" 

           Thebooksleaptanddancedlikeroastedbirds,theirwingsablazewithredandyellowfeathers. 

           Andthenhecametotheparlourwherethegreatidiotmonsterslayasleepwiththeirwhitethoughtsandtheirsnowydreams. Andheshotaboltateachofthethreeblankwalls andthevacuumhissedoutathim.Theemptinessmadeanevenemptierwhistle,asenselessscream. Hetriedtothinkaboutthevacuumuponwhichthenothingnesshadperformed,buthecouldnot. Heheldhisbreathsothevacuumcouldnotgetintohislungs.