Guy Montag: Fahrenheit four-five-one is the temperature at which book paper catches fire and starts to burn.

Guy Montag: To learn how to find, one must first learn how to hide.

Guy Montag: [reading from dictionary] Rhinoceros: any of certain large, powerful, thick-skinned perissodactyl mammals of the family Rhinocerotidae.

Guy Montag: Do you remember what you asked me the other day: if I ever read the books I burn? Remember?
Clarisse: Uh-huh.
Guy Montag: Last night I read one.

The Captain: The books have nothing to say.

The Captain: Trouble between you and the Pole, Montag?

Fireman: [the Book Woman is given 10 seconds to get out of the house] 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9...
Book Lady: Nine elevenths are ninety-nine, nine twelfths are a hundred and eight, nine thirteens are a hundred and seventeen, nine fourteenths are a hundred and twenty-six.

Guy Montag: Tell me, this uncle of yours, did he ever tell you not to talk to strangers?
Clarisse: No, he did say once if anyone asked how old I was to say I was 20 and light in the head. They always seem to go together.
Guy Montag: Light in the head?
Clarisse: Mm-hmm, loopy, crazy.

The Captain: These are all novels, all about people that never existed, the people that read them it makes them unhappy with their own lives. Makes them want to live in other ways they can never really be.

The Captain: Just tell me this, Montag, at a guess, how many literary awards would you say were made in this country on an average each year? 5? 10? 40? Not less than 1,200.

The Captain: By the way, what does Montag do on his day off duty?
Guy Montag: Not much, sir, just mow the lawn.
The Captain: And what if the law forbids that?
Guy Montag: Just watch it grow, sir.