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“June dawns, July noons, August evenings over, finished, done, and gone forever with only the sense of it all left here in his head. Now, a whole autumn, a white winter, a cool and greening spring to figure sums and totals of summer past. And if he should forget, the dandelion wine stood in the cellar, numbered huge for each and every day. He would go there often, stare straight into the sun until he could stare no more, then close his eyes and consider the burned spots, the fleeting scars left dancing on his warm eyelids; arranging, rearranging each fire and reflection until the pattern was clear.” “Socialism or Death” “I’m thinking, I’m thinking!” For what it’s worth, both Bradbury and Benny are from Waukegan, Illinois. |
“Through the unknown, remembered gate….”
— T. S. Eliot, epigraph to
Parallelisms of Complete Designs, by
I love, love, love Dandelion Wine. I read it every year.
Comment by starboard — Saturday, April 19, 2003 @ 4:55 pm