Dele Haynes

“The classroom was a jail of other people’s interests. The library was open, unending, free.”
― Ta-Nehisi Coates

“There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time look like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theater, 100 billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight-Tomas shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck-tonight you could almost taste time.”
― Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles

“His voice was as intimate as the rustle of sheets.”
― Dorothy Parker

“Business or profession?'
'I guess you'd call me a writer.'
No profession,' said the police car, as if talking to itself. The light held him fixed, like a museum specimen, needle thrust through chest.”
― Ray Bradbury, The Pedestrian: A Fantasy in One Act