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"
Montag
,
have
you
some
money
?
"
"
Some
.
Four
,
five
hundred
dollars
.
Why
?
"
"
Bring
it
.
I
know
a
man
who
printed
our
college
paper
half
a
century
ago
.
That
was
the
year
I
came
to
class
at
the
start
of
the
new
semester
and
found
only
one
student
to
sign
up
for
Drama
from
Aeschylus
to
O'Neill
.
You
see
?
How
like
a
beautiful
statue
of
ice
it
was
,
melting
in
the
sun
.
I
remember
the
newspapers
dying
like
huge
moths
.
No
one
wanted
them
back
.
No
one
missed
them
.
And
the
Government
,
seeing
how
advantageous
it
was
to
have
people
reading
only
about
passionate
lips
and
the
fist
in
the
stomach
,
circled
the
situation
with
your
fire-eaters
.
So
,
Montag
,
there
's
this
unemployed
printer
.
We
might
start
a
few
books
,
and
wait
on
the
war
to
break
the
pattern
and
give
us
the
push
we
need
.
A
few
bombs
and
the
'
families
'
in
the
walls
of
all
the
houses
,
like
harlequin
rats
,
will
shut
up
!
In
silence
,
our
stage-whisper
might
carry
.
"
They
both
stood
looking
at
the
book
on
the
table
.
"
I
've
tried
to
remember
,
"
said
Montag
.
"
But
,
hell
,
it
's
gone
when
I
turn
my
head
.
God
,
how
I
want
something
to
say
to
the
Captain
.
He
's
read
enough
so
he
has
all
the
answers
,
or
seems
to
have
.
His
voice
is
like
butter
.
I
'm
afraid
he
'll
talk
me
back
the
way
I
was
.
Only
a
week
ago
,
pumping
a
kerosene
hose
,
I
thought
:
God
,
what
fun
!
"
The
old
man
nodded
.
"
Those
who
do
n't
build
must
burn
.
It
's
as
old
as
history
and
juvenile
delinquents
.
"
"
So
that
's
what
I
am
.
"
"
There
's
some
of
it
in
all
of
us
.
"
Montag
moved
towards
the
front
door
.
"
Can
you
help
me
in
any
way
tonight
,
with
the
Fire
Captain
?
I
need
an
umbrella
to
keep
off
the
rain
.
I
'm
so
damned
afraid
I
'll
drown
if
he
gets
me
again
.
"
