Technology Quotes In Fahrenheit 451 Novels & Stories

He scanned the dark, unheated room, his brow furrowing as his eyes locked onto Ava, who stood perfectly motionless by the edge of the cot. "You don't have the heating unit turned on, Ava," Michael said, his voice gravelly and thick with a defensive fatigue. He stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him as he laid the heavy manila folder flat on the corner of the wooden desk. "The temperature across the terrace is dropping below freezing. You don't have to punish yourself just to prove a point to me." into the room, the door clicking shut behind him as he laid the heavy manila folder flat on the corner of the wooden desk. "The temperature across the terrace is dropping below fre

Early the next morning, I'd just returned home from repairing my phone when I suddenly caught sight of three big, burly, foul-smelling brokers in the living room. Leroy had a cigarette in his mouth as he gave me a scrutinizing look. "Her? She's so skinny. Can she even handle the high heat in the factories?" Mom immediately plastered a wide, fawning smile on her face and said, "Of course she can! She's been a very resourceful and hard worker all her life. She's very resilient!" The fear from my past life washed over me like a tidal wave just then. The so-called "high heat" in the factories had an operating temperature exceeding 160 degrees, with toxic chemical fumes constantly hanging in the

Four thousand degrees Fahrenheit does not merely burn. It completely, violently liquefies everything it touches. The blinding, radioactive orange glare of the military grade thermite violently illuminated the pitch black subterranean corridor. The heavy titanium of the nursery door was already warping, the metal blistering as the liquid plasma began to eat directly through the lock. Lucian Sterling did not step back. The apocalyptic King of the underworld didn't care about physics. He didn't care about biology. The only math that existed in his feral, redlined mind was the exact distance between the burning star and the innocent, sleeping breaths of his children on the other side of the door

The section should make it intentional. He looked at the radiator. The radiator was at forty centimetres from the floor — the old cast iron radiator, the original library heating, positioned at the height it had always been. He thought about the forty centimetres. He thought about the sill height — the coastal east window at forty centimetres, the everywhere-at-once at the level of the attending face. He thought about the radiator at forty centimetres as the warmth at the level of the attending child — the honest warmth at the honest height, the body given warmth where the body was.

"Ah, very funny, quoting a fuckin' movie and thinkin' that'll get ya somewhere. Well, lemme tell you, it doesn't." "Man, ya can't even stick to a script, now we gotta kill ya," I said and pressed the button on the charge, setting off the thermite behind all the cops, anyone that didn't die instantly burned to death or tried to put out the fire on their back, in the case of the guy in charge.

His skin was steaming. "Dad! Listen to me!" Alex’s voice crackled frantically in Jackson’s earpiece. "I’m reading his vitals through the lab sensors! He is overheating!" "Tell me something I don't know!" Jackson ducked under a swinging claw that could have decapitated him. "No, I mean literally!" Alex shouted. "The serum increases metabolic rate by 1000%. His internal temperature is over 200 degrees Fahrenheit. He needs to cool down, or he burns up!"

"Maybe I should just let it go... self-preservation first!" ... "Why is it so chilly in New York City at night?" Quentin inquired. "Come here," I gestured to Quentin. "Let me show you a little gem." Quentin followed me into the master bedroom and spotted an electric heater on the floor. His eyes lit up, and he hurriedly sat on the carpet, reaching out his hands towards the warmth. Seated beside him, I proudly declared, "Isn't it a gem?" Quentin remained silent, enjoying the warmth before deciding to unplug it.

She hesitated. That was her book. As she reached out for it, his hand moved at the same moment. Their fingers touched-just a graze-and a current pulsed between them like the flick of static before a storm. He looked at her.His eyes were grey-blue. Calm. Intense. Searching. "You have good taste," he said, voice low and smooth. Clara felt her heart trip. "Neruda's kind of... essential." He pulled the book from the shelf, opened it to the third page, and without looking down, quoted: "I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."

Holden smiled and said, “The martial art that the Harker family practices is a little special. The lower the temperature, the better it’d be for us. That is the reason why we came to Moncolne. There is a heater in this main hall. So, the temperature is maintained above zero degrees, and water cannot freeze in here. If it were the children’s room, there would not be any heater at all. The temperature in their rooms is generally below negative ten degrees.” “Oh, my God.” Arrington shrunk his neck and said, “Fortunately, I’m not a member of the Harker family. Otherwise, I’d have already frozen to death…” Holden smiled slightly before he said to Yuvin who was beside him, “Yuvin, go and bring a p

The man who died too quickly because I didn’t have this knowledge was problematic. Ramon needs a break, so I head to the utility shower that has a large tiled floor. I’m in a sectioned off portion of one of our downtown warehouses and it’s hotter than hell inside. Phoenix in July is no place for the weak. The warehouse is cooled by water evaporation, which means instead of one hundred and fifteen degrees it’s in the nineties. Maybe we should invest in ceiling fans.