There’s nothing in the living world like books on water cures, deaths-of-a-thousand-slices, or pouring white-hot lava off castle walls on drolls and mountebanks.

Poet, this Ray Bradbury guy.

As read from: Something Wicked this Way Comes

Bradbury, Ray. Something Wicked This Way Comes: A Novel. New York, Simon & Schuster, 1997. pg11