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"
Snap
ending
.
"
Mildred
nodded
.
"
Classics
cut
to
fit
fifteen-minute
radio
shows
,
then
cut
again
to
fill
a
two-minute
book
column
,
winding
up
at
last
as
a
ten
--
or
twelve-line
dictionary
resume
.
I
exaggerate
,
of
course
.
The
dictionaries
were
for
reference
.
But
many
were
those
whose
sole
knowledge
of
Hamlet
(
you
know
the
title
certainly
,
Montag
;
it
is
probably
only
a
faint
rumour
of
a
title
to
you
,
Mrs.
Montag
)
whose
sole
knowledge
,
as
I
say
,
of
Hamlet
was
a
one-page
digest
in
a
book
that
claimed
:
'
now
at
least
you
can
read
all
the
classics
;
keep
up
with
your
neighbours
.
'
Do
you
see
?
Out
of
the
nursery
into
the
college
and
back
to
the
nursery
;
there
's
your
intellectual
pattern
for
the
past
five
centuries
or
more
.
"
Mildred
arose
and
began
to
move
around
the
room
,
picking
things
up
and
putting
them
down
.
Beatty
ignored
her
and
continued
.
"
Speed
up
the
film
,
Montag
,
quick
.
Click
?
Pic
?
Look
,
Eye
,
Now
,
Flick
,
Here
,
There
,
Swift
,
Pace
,
Up
,
Down
,
In
,
Out
,
Why
,
How
,
Who
,
What
,
Where
,
Eh
?
Uh
!
Bang
!
Smack
!
Wallop
,
Bing
,
Bong
,
Boom
!
Digest-digests
,
digest-digest-digests
.
Politics
?
One
column
,
two
sentences
,
a
headline
!
Then
,
in
mid-air
,
all
vanishes
!
Whirl
man
's
mind
around
about
so
fast
under
the
pumping
hands
of
publishers
,
exploiters
,
broadcasters
,
that
the
centrifuge
flings
off
all
unnecessary
,
time-wasting
thought
!
"
Mildred
smoothed
the
bedclothes
.
Montag
felt
his
heart
jump
and
jump
again
as
she
patted
his
pillow
.
Right
now
she
was
pulling
at
his
shoulder
to
try
to
get
him
to
move
so
she
could
take
the
pillow
out
and
fix
it
nicely
and
put
it
back
.
And
perhaps
cry
out
and
stare
or
simply
reach
down
her
hand
and
say
,
"
What
's
this
?
"
and
hold
up
the
hidden
book
with
touching
innocence
.
"
School
is
shortened
,
discipline
relaxed
,
philosophies
,
histories
,
languages
dropped
,
English
and
spelling
gradually
neglected
,
finally
almost
completely
ignored
.
Life
is
immediate
,
the
job
counts
,
pleasure
lies
all
about
after
work
.
Why
learn
anything
save
pressing
buttons
,
pulling
switches
,
fitting
nuts
and
bolts
?
"
"
Let
me
fix
your
pillow
,
"
said
Mildred
.
"
No
!
"
whispered
Montag
.
"
The
zipper
displaces
the
button
and
a
man
lacks
just
that
much
time
to
think
while
dressing
at
dawn
,
a
philosophical
hour
,
and
thus
a
melancholy
hour
.
"
