📘 ❞ Fahrenheit 451 ❝ قصة ــ Ray Bradbury اصدار 1996
Stories and novels - 📖 ❞ قصة Fahrenheit 451 ❝ ــ Ray Bradbury 📖
█ _ Ray Bradbury 1996 حصريا قصة Fahrenheit 451 عن New York : Ballantine Books 2024 451: 451 It was a pleasure to burn It special see things eaten, things blackened and changed With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon world, blood pounded head, hands were of some amazing conductor playing all symphonies blazing burning bring down tatters charcoal ruins history symbolic helmet numbered on stolid eyes orange flame with thought what came next, he flicked igniter the house jumped up gorging fire that burned evening sky red and yellow black He strode swarm fireflies wanted above all, like old joke, shove marshmallow stick furnace, while flapping pigeon winged books died porch lawn house While went sparkling whirls and blew away wind turned dark Stories novels مجاناً PDF اونلاين هذا القسم يحتوي علي العديد من القصص والروايات باللغة الإنجليزية This section contains many stories English (Stories novels) والروايات: الرواية هي سرد نثري طويل يصف شخصيات خيالية أو واقعية وأحداثاً شكل متسلسلة كما أنها أكبر الأجناس القصصية حيث الحجم وتعدد الشخصيات وتنوع الأحداث وقد ظهرت أوروبا بوصفها جنساً أدبياً مؤثراً القرن الثامن عشر والرواية حكاية تعتمد السرد بما فيه وصف وحوار وصراع بين وما ينطوي عليه ذلك تأزم وجدل وتغذيه A novel is relatively long work narrative fiction, normally written prose form, which typically published as book The present English word for fiction derives from Italian novella "new", "news", or "short story something new", itself Latin novella, singular noun use neuter plural novellus, diminutive novus, meaning "new" Walter Scott made distinction between novel, (as saw it) "events are accommodated ordinary train human events modern state society" romance, defined "a fictitious verse; interest turns marvellous uncommon incidents"
Fahrenheit 451
It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things
blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this
great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood
pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing
conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring
down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic
helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame
with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the
house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and
yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above
all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace,
while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and
lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and
blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.
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