451 по фаренгейту

           SeatedthereinthemidstofJuly,withoutasound,hefeltthetearsmovedownhischeeks. 

           Nowasthevacuum-undergroundrushedhimthroughthedeadcellarsoftown,joltinghim, herememberedtheterriblelogicofthatsieve,andhelookeddownandsawthathewascarryingtheBibleopen. Therewerepeopleinthesuctiontrainbutheheldthebookinhishandsandthesillythoughtcametohim, ifyoureadfastandreadall,maybesomeofthesandwillstayinthesieve. Buthereadandthewordsfellthrough,andhethought,inafewhours,therewillbeBeatty, andherewillbemehandingthisover,sonophrasemustescapeme,eachlinemustbememorized. Iwillmyselftodoit. 

           Heclenchedthebookinhisfists. 

           Trumpetsblared. 

           "Denham’sDentrifice." 

           Shutup,thoughtMontag.Considertheliliesofthefield. 

           "Denham’sDentifrice." 

           Theytoilnot— 

           "Denham’s—" 

           Considertheliliesofthefield,shutup,shutup. 

           "Dentifrice!" 

           Hetorethebookopenandflickedthepagesandfeltthemasifhewereblind,hepickedattheshapeoftheindividualletters,notblinking.