451 по фаренгейту

           Andinthemiddleofthestrangeness,afamiliarity. 

           Hisfoothitsomethingthatrangdully. 

           Hemovedhishandontheground,ayardthisway,ayardthat. 

           Therailroadtrack. 

           Thetrackthatcameoutofthecityandrustedacrosstheland,throughforestsandwoods,desertednow,bytheriver. 

           Herewasthepathtowhereverhewasgoing. Herewasthesinglefamiliarthing,themagiccharmhemightneedalittlewhile, totouch,tofeelbeneathhisfeet, ashemovedonintothebramblebushes andthelakesofsmellingandfeelingandtouching,amongthewhispersandtheblowingdownofleaves. 

           Hewalkedonthetrack. 

           Andhewassurprisedtolearnhowcertainhesuddenlywasofasinglefacthecouldnotprove. 

           Once,longago,Clarissehadwalkedhere,wherehewaswalkingnow. 

           Halfanhourlater,cold,andmovingcarefullyonthetracks, fullyawareofhisentirebody,hisface,hismouth, hiseyesstuffedwithblackness,hisearsstuffedwithsound,hislegsprickledwithburrsandnettles, hesawthefireahead. 

           Thefirewasgone,thenbackagain,likeawinkingeye. Hestopped,afraidhemightblowthefireoutwithasinglebreath. Butthefirewasthereandheapproachedwarily,fromalongwayoff.