IT WAS A PLEASURE TO BURN was a special pleasure to see things eaten 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 451 on stolid eyes orange flame thought what came next he flicked igniter house jumped up gorging fire that burned evening sky red 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 blew away wind turned dark burning. Montag grinned fierce grin men singed driven back by flame. knew when returned firehouse might wink at himself minstrel man burnt- corked mirror. Later going sleep would feel fiery smile still gripped face muscles dark. It never away that. smile it ever as long remembered. hung black-beetle-coloured shined it flameproof jacket neatly showered luxuriously then whistling pockets walked across upper floor station fell hole. At last moment disaster seemed positive pulled from pockets broke fall grasping golden pole. slid squeaking halt heels one inch concrete downstairs.