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The major problem faced by KMB community is that the students are having heavy workloads and packed schedules. This issue results in poor time management which cause the students to experience an exhausting week.

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Maintenance of the facilities inside the College 

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Maintenance of the facilities inside the College 

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Students had been complaining about certain facilities that are damaged and not up to date like damaged fitness equipments and microphones, which causes severe problems among the students to do their daily acivities such as events

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It has been reported that the limited amount of garbage binS provided has caused overflow of garbages disposed by the students per day, which has attracted pests such as rats and cockroaches.

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It has been reported that the limited amount of garbage binS provided has caused overflow of garbages disposed by the students per day, which has attracted pests such as rats and cockroaches.

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Students haVE been complaining on the slow progress of toilet maintenance in the academic block which cause the students to endure the urge until the learning session finished.

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Students haVE been complaining on the slow progress of toilet maintenance in the academic block which cause the students to endure the urge until the learning session finished.

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Proposal to prepare more study spaces for students

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Proposal to prepare more study spaces for students

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since classrooms have limited time to access, public study spaces such as concourse or library can be too crowded and loud

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Students of block F have complained about the damaged shower heads and doors in the hostel's bathroom, which had caused inconvenience among them.

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Students has been reporting the damages in hostel including clogged sinks, leakage in the ceiling and slow fans.

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Proposal to repair the loo beside the parcel room

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Proposal to repair the loo beside the parcel room

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The loo beside the parcel room has been broken for a few months and students have reported about the low water pressure and the inability to flush the toilet

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Students had been complaining about the lack of water supply due to unregulated maintenance of water pump which cause the late to class issue

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Issues regarding the highly-priced item at the mart had raised many complaints among the students of the college.

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Students had been complaining about the damaged on jogging track that will cause danger to students.

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Proposal to set up litter boxes for Cats in KMB

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Proposal to set up litter boxes for Cats in KMB

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There have been complaints of cat pooping in front of some student’s rooms thus leading to the discomfort of that particular students

-Syahir

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It has been reported by students that the IB syllabus is found to be too challenging especially with the additional compulsory components which are the TOK, EE and IAs for each subject .

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The lack of proper ventilation and gym equipment in the gym of Kolej MARA Banting have caused students to file complaints. 

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The lack of proper ventilation and gym equipment in the gym of Kolej MARA Banting have caused students to file complaints. 

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mimi

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Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander [page 15-17] (Identities)

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Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander [page 15-17] (Identities)

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At nine in the morning, Mildred's bed was empty.
Montag got up quickly, his heart pumping, and ran down the hall and stopped at the kitchen door.
Toast popped out of the silver toaster, was seized by a spidery metal hand that drenched it with melted butter. Mildred watched the toast delivered to her plate. She had both ears plugged with electronic bees that were humming the hour away. She looked up suddenly, saw him, and nodded.
"You all right?" he asked.
She was an expert at lip-reading from ten years of apprenticeship at Seashell ear-thimbles. She nodded again. She set the toaster clicking away at another piece of bread.
Montag sat down.
His wife said, "I don't know why I should be so hungry."
"You-?"
"I'm hungry."
"Last night," he began.
"Didn't sleep well. Feel terrible," she said. "God, I'm hungry. I can't figure it."
"Last night-" he said again.
She watched his lips casually. "What about last night?"
"Don't you remember?"
"What? Did we have a wild party or something? Feel like I've a hangover. God, I'm hungry. Who was here?"
"A few people," he said.
"That's what I thought." She chewed her toast. "Sore stomach, but I'm hungry as all-get-out. Hope I didn't do anything foolish at the party."
"No," he said, quietly. The toaster spidered out a piece of buttered bread for him. He held it in his hand, feeling grateful.
"You don't look so hot yourself," said his wife.

In the late afternoon it rained and the entire world was dark grey. He stood in the hall of his house, putting on his badge with the orange salamander burning across it. He stood looking up at the airconditioning vent in the hall for a long time. His wife in the TV parlor paused long enough from reading her script to glance up. "Hey," she said. "The man's thinking!"
"Yes," he said. "I wanted to talk to you." He paused. "You took all the pills in your bottle last night."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," she said, surprised.
"The bottle was empty."
"I wouldn't do a thing like that. Why would I do a thing like that?" she asked.
"Maybe you took two pills and forgot and took two more, and forgot again and took two more, and were so dopy you kept right on until you had thirty or forty of them in you."
"Heck," she said, "what would I want to go and do a silly thing like that for?"
"I don't know," he said.
She was quite obviously waiting for him to go. "I didn't do that," she said. "Never in a billion years."
"All right if you say so," he said.

# data[].attributes.headline
Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander page 1-2 (social organization) - wina 

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Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander page 1-2 (social organization) - wina 

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It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and 2 lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.

Montag grinned the fierce grin of all men singed and driven back by flame.

He knew that when he returned to the firehouse, he might wink at himself, a minstrel man, burnt-corked, in the mirror. Later, going to sleep, he would feel the fiery smile still gripped by his face muscles, in the dark. It never went away, that. smile, it never ever went away, as long as he remembered.

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Chapter 1: The Hearth and the Salamander [Page 5-6]   Theme: Identities (Belief and values) - amiratul

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Chapter 1: The Hearth and the Salamander [Page 5-6]   Theme: Identities (Belief and values) - amiratul

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"Do you ever read any of the books you 🤬?"

He laughed. "That's against the law!"

"Oh. Of course."

"It's fine work. Monday 🤬 Millay, Wednesday Whitman, Friday Faulkner, burn 'em to ashes, then 🤬 the ashes. That's our official slogan."

They walked still further and the girl said, "Is it true that long ago firemen put fires out instead of going to start them?"

"No. Houses. have always been fireproof, take my word for it."

"Strange. I heard once that a long time ago houses used to burn by accident and they needed firemen to stop the flames."

He laughed.

She glanced quickly over. "Why are you laughing?"

"I don't know." He started to laugh again and stopped "Why?"

"You laugh when I haven't been funny and you answer right off.

You never stop to think what I've asked you."

He stopped walking, "You are an odd one," he said, looking at her. "Haven't you any respect?"

"I don't mean to be insulting. It's just, I love to watch people too much, I guess."

"Well, doesn't this mean anything to you?" He tapped the numerals 451 stitched on his char-colored sleeve.

"Yes," she whispered. She increased her pace. "Have you ever watched the jet cars racing on the boulevards down that way?

"You're changing the subject!"

"I sometimes think drivers don't know what grass is, or flowers, because they never see them slowly," she said. "If you showed a driver a green blur, Oh yes! he'd say, that's grass! A pink blur? That's a rose garden! White blurs are houses. Brown blurs are cows. My uncle drove slowly on a highway once. He drove forty miles an hour and they jailed him for two days. Isn't that funny, and sad, too?"

300 words

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Significant scene - (Chapter 1) page 35-37) azizi  (Social organisation -education)

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Significant scene - (Chapter 1) page 35-37) azizi  (Social organisation -education)

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The woman knelt among the books, touching the drenched leather and cardboard, reading the gilt titles with her fingers while her eyes accused Montag.
"You can't never have my books," she said.
"You know the law," said Beatty. "Where's your common sense? None of those books agree with each other. You've been locked up here for years with a regular damned Tower of Babel. Snap out of it! The people in those books never lived. Come on now!"
She shook her head.
"The whole house is going up," said Beatty, The men walked clumsily to the door. They glanced back at Montag, who stood near the woman. "You're not leaving her here?" he protested. "She won't come." "Force her, then!" Beatty raised his hand in which was concealed the igniter. "We're due back at the house. Besides, these fanatics always try suicide; the pattern's familiar." Montag placed his hand on the woman's elbow. "You can come with me." "No," she said. "Thank you, anyway." "I'm counting to ten," said Beatty. "One. Two." "Please," said Montag. "Go on," said the woman. "Three. Four." "Here." Montag pulled at the woman. The woman replied quietly, "I want to stay here" "Five. Six." "You can stop counting," she said. She opened the fingers of one hand slightly and in the palm of the hand was a single slender object. An ordinary kitchen match. The sight of it rushed the men out and down away from the house. Captain Beatty, keeping his dignity, backed slowly through the front door, his pink face burnt and shiny from a thousand fires and night excitements. God, thought Montag, how true! Always at night the alarm comes. Never by day! Is it because the fire is prettier by night? More spectacle, a better show? The pink face of Beatty now showed the faintest panic in the door. The woman's hand twitched on the single matchstick. The 37 fumes of kerosene bloomed up about her. Montag felt the hidden book pound like a heart against his chest. "Go on," said the woman, and Montag felt himself back away and away out of the door, after Beatty, down the steps, across the lawn, where the path of kerosene lay like the track of some evil snail. On the front porch where she had come to weigh them quietly with her eyes, her quietness a condemnation, the woman stood motionless. Beatty flicked his fingers to spark the kerosene. He was too late. Montag gasped. The woman on the porch reached out with contempt for them all, and struck the kitchen match against the railing. People ran out of houses all down the street. They said nothing on their way back to the firehouse. Nobody looked at anyone else. Montag sat in the front seat with Beatty and Black. They did not even smoke their pipes. They sat there looking out of the front of the great salamander as they turned a corner and went silently on.

# data[].attributes.headline
Fahrenheit 451 (Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander) Page 36-37, Najla (Theme - Social Organization)

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Fahrenheit 451 (Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander) Page 36-37, Najla (Theme - Social Organization)

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Beatty raised his hand in which was concealed the igniter. "We're due back at the house. Besides, these fanatics always try suicide; the pattern's familiar."

Montag placed his hand on the woman's elbow. "You can come

with me."

"No," she said. "Thank you, anyway."

"I'm counting to ten," said Beatty. "One. Two."

"Please," said Montag.

"Go on," said the woman.

"Three. Four."

"Here." Montag pulled at the woman.

The woman replied quietly, "I want to stay here"

"Five. Six."

"You can stop counting," she said. She opened the fingers of one

hand slightly and in the palm of the hand was a single slender object.

An ordinary kitchen match.

The sight of it rushed the men out and down away from the house. Captain Beatty, keeping his dignity, backed slowly through the front door, his pink face burnt and shiny from a thousand fires and night excitements. God, thought Montag, how true! Always at night the alarm comes. Never by day! Is it because the fire is prettier by night? More spectacle, a better show? The pink face of Beatty now showed the faintest panic in the door. The woman's hand twitched on the single matchstick. The fumes of kerosene bloomed up about her. Montag felt the hidden book pound like a heart against his chest.

"Go on," said the woman, and Montag felt himself back away and away out of the door, after Beatty, down the steps, across the lawn, where the path of kerosene lay like the track of some evil snail.

On the front porch where she had come to weigh them quietly with her eyes, her quietness a condemnation, the woman stood motionless.

Beatty flicked his fingers to spark the kerosene.

He was too late. Montag gasped.

The woman on the porch reached out with contempt for them all, and struck the kitchen match against the railing.

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The Sieve and the Sand- (Faber teaches Montag about books, page 79-80) Theme: Social Organization - Filzah

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The Sieve and the Sand- (Faber teaches Montag about books, page 79-80) Theme: Social Organization - Filzah

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“Number one: Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You’d find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more ‘literary’ you are. That’s my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones r@pe her and leave her for the flies.

“So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless. We are living in a time when flowers are trying to live on flowers, instead of growing on good rain and black loam. Even fireworks, for all their prettiness, come from the chemistry of the earth. Yet somehow we think we can grow, feeding on flowers and fireworks, without completing the cycle back to reality. Do you know the legend of Hercules and Antaeus, the giant wrestler, whose strength was incredible so long as he stood firmly on the earth? But when he was held, rootless, in midair, by Hercules, he perished easily. If there isn’t something in that legend for us today, in this city, in our time, then I am completely insane. Well, there we have the first thing I said we needed. Quality, texture of information.”
“And the second?”
“Leisure.”
“Oh, but we’ve plenty of off hours.”
“Off hours, yes. But time to think? If you’re not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can’t think of anything else but the danger, then you’re playing some game or sitting in some room where you can’t argue with the fourwall televisor. Why? The televisor is ‘real.’ It is immediate, it has dimension. It tells you what to think and blasts it in. It must be right. It seems so right. It rushes you on so quickly to its own conclusions your mind hasn’t time to protest, ‘What nonsense!’ ” “Only the ‘family’ is ‘people.’ ”
“I beg pardon?”
“My wife says books aren’t ‘real.’ ”
“Thank God for that. You can shut them, say, ‘Hold on a moment.’ You play God to it. But who has ever torn himself from the claw that encloses you when you drop a seed in a TV parlor? It grows you any shape it wishes! It is an environment as real as the world. It becomes and is the truth. Books can be beaten down with reason. But with all my knowledge and skepticism, I have never been able to argue with a one-hundred-piece symphony orchestra, full color, three dimensions, and being in and part of those incredible parlors. As you see, my parlor is nothing but four plaster walls. And here.” He held out two small rubber plugs.
“For my ears when I ride the subway jets.”
“Denham’s Dentifrice; they toil not, neither do they spin,” said Montag, eyes shut.
“Where do we go from here? Would books help us?”

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Fahrenheit 451 (Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander *Page 62-64) - Balqhis

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Fahrenheit 451 (Chapter 1 - The Hearth and the Salamander *Page 62-64) - Balqhis

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"Millie?" He paused. "This is your house as well as mine. I feel it's only fair that I tell you something now. I should have told you before, but I wasn't even admitting it to myself. I have something I want you to see, something I've put away and hid during the past year, now and again, once in a while, I didn't know why, but I did it and I never told you."

He took hold of a straight-backed chair and moved it slowly and steadily into the hall near the front door and climbed up on it and stood for a moment like a statue on a pedestal, his wife standing under him, waiting. Then he reached up and pulled back the grille of the air-conditioning system and reached far back inside to the right and moved still another sliding sheet of metal and took out a book. Without looking at it he dropped it to the floor. He put his hand back up and took out two books and moved his hand down and dropped the two books to the floor. He kept moving his hand and dropping books, small ones, fairly large ones, yellow, red, green ones. When he was done he looked down upon some twenty books lying at his wife's feet.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't really think. But now it looks as if we're in this together."

Mildred backed away as if she were suddenly confronted by a pack of mice that had come up out of the floor. He could hear her breathing rapidly and her face was paled out and her eyes were fastened wide. She said his name over, twice, three times. Then moaning, she ran forward, seized a book and ran toward the kitchen incinerator.

"Millie! "' he said. "Listen. Give me a second, will you? We can't do anything. We can't burn these. I want to look at them, at least look at them once. Then if what the Captain says is true, we'll burn them together, believe me, we'll burn them together. You must help me."

"Whether we like this or not, we're in it. I've never asked for much from you in all these years, but I ask it now, I plead for it. We've got to start somewhere here, figuring out why we're in such a mess, you and the medicine at night, and the car, and me and my work. We're heading right for the cliff, Millie. God, I don't want to go over. This isn't going to be easy. We haven't anything to go on, but maybe we can piece it out and figure it and help each other. I need you so much right now, I can't tell you. If you love me at all you'll put up with this, twenty-four, forty-eight hours, that's all I ask, then it'll be over. I promise, I swear! And if there is something here, just one little thing out of a whole mess of things, maybe we can pass it on to someone else."

She wasn't fighting any more, so he let her go. She sagged away from him and slid down the wall, and sat on the floor looking at the books. Her foot touched one and she saw this and pulled her foot away.

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Page 20-21                          (introducing the mechanical hound)             theme:-Human Ingenuity = Censorship & Effect of technology-Social organisation = conformity & obedience (law and order          

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Page 20-21                          (introducing the mechanical hound)             theme:-Human Ingenuity = Censorship & Effect of technology-Social organisation = conformity & obedience (law and order          

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The Mechanical Hound slept but did not sleep, lived but did not live in

its gently humming, gently vibrating, softly illuminated

kennel back in a dark corner of the firehouse. The dim light of one in the morning, the moonlight from the open sky framed through the great window, touched here and there on the brass and the copper and the steel of the faintly trembling beast. Light flickered on bits of ruby glass and on sensitive capillary hairs in the nylon-brushed nostrils of the creature that quivered gently, gently, gently, its eight legs spidered under it on rubber-padded paws.

Montag slid down the brass pole. He went out to look at the city

and the clouds had cleared away completely, and he lit a cigarette and came back to bend down and look at the Hound. It was like a great bee come home from some field where the honey is full of poison wildness, of insanity and nightmare, its body crammed with that over-rich nectar and now it was sleeping the evil out of itself.

"Hello," whispered Montag, fascinated as always with the dead

beast, the living beast.

Nights when things got dull, which was every night, the men slid down the brass poles, and set the ticking combinations of the olfactory system of the Hound and let loose rats in the firehouse area-way, and sometimes chickens, and sometimes cats that would have to be drowned anyway, and there would be betting to see which the Hound would seize first. The animals were turned loose. Three seconds later the game was done, the rat, cat, or chicken caught half across the areaway, gripped in gentling paws while a four-inch hollow steel needle plunged down from the proboscis of the Hound to inject massive jolts of morphine or procaine.

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Burning Bright (Page 157-158) -Human Ingenuity & Social Organization

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Burning Bright (Page 157-158) -Human Ingenuity & Social Organization

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We went right on spitting in the graves of all the poor ones who died before us. We're going to meet a lot of lonely people in the next week and the next month and the next year. And when they ask us what we're doing, you can say, We're remembering. That's where we'll win out in the long run. And some day we'll remember so much that we'll build the biggest goddam steamshovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in and cover it up. Come on now, we're going to go build a mirror factory first and put out nothing but mirrors for the next year and take a long look in them."

They finished eating and put out the fire. The day was brightening all about them as if a pink lamp had been given. more wick. In the trees, the birds that had flown away quickly now came back and settled down.

Montag began walking and after a moment found that the others had fallen in behind him, going north. He was surprised, and moved aside to let Granger pass, but Granger looked at him and nodded him on. Montag went ahead. He looked at the river and the sky and the rusting track going back down to where the farms lay, where the barns stood full of hay, where a lot of people had walked by in the night on their way from the city. Later, in a month or six months, and certainly not more than a year, he would walk along here again, alone, and keep right on going until he caught up with the people.

But now there was a long morning's walk until noon, and if the men were silent it was because there was everything to think about and much to remember. Perhaps later in the morn ing, when the sun was up and had warmed them they would begin to talk, or just say the things they remembered, to be sure they were there, to be absolutely certain that things were safe in them. Montag felt the slow stir of words, the slow simmer. And when it came his turn, what could he say, what could he offer on a day like this, to make the trip a little easier? To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. Yes, all that. But what else. What else? Something, something....

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Chapter 1: The Hearth and the Salamander (pg:48-49)

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Chapter 1: The Hearth and the Salamander (pg:48-49)

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"Mildred, how would it be if, well, maybe, I quit my job awhile?"

"You want to give up everything? After all these years of working, because, one night, some woman and her books--"

"You should have seen her, Millie! "

"She's nothing to me; she shouldn't have had books. It was her responsibility, she should have thought of that. I hate her. She's got you going and next thing you know we'll be out, no house, no job, nothing."

"You weren't there, you didn't see," he said. "There must be something in books, things we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing."

"She was simple-minded."

"She was as rational as you and I, more so perhaps, and we burned her." "That's water under the bridge."

"No, not water; fire. You ever seen a burned house? It smolders for days. Well, this fire'll last me the rest of my life. God! I've been trying to put it out, in my mind, all night. I'm crazy with trying."

"You should have thought of that before becoming a fireman."

"Thought! " he said. "Was I given a choice? My grandfather and father were firemen. In my sleep, I ran after them."

The parlor was playing a dance tune.

"This is the day you go on the early shift," said Mildred.

"You should have gone two hours ago. I just noticed."

"It's not just the woman that died," said Montag. "Last night I thought about all the kerosene I've used in the past ten years. And I thought about books. And for the first time I realized that a man was behind each one of the books. A man had to think them up. A man had to take a long time to put them down on paper. And I'd never even thought that thought before." He got out of bed.

"It took some man a lifetime maybe to put some of his thoughts down, looking around at the world and life, and then I came along in two minutes and boom! it's all over."

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Page 59- 60 ( captain Beatty visits Montag) Theme= Social organisation( conformity and obedience(Law and Order))

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Page 59- 60 ( captain Beatty visits Montag) Theme= Social organisation( conformity and obedience(Law and Order))

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Beatty got up. I must be going. Lecture's over. I hope I've clarified things. The important thing for you to remember, Montag, is we're the Happiness Boys, the Dixie Duo, you and I and the others. We stand against the small tide of those who want to make everyone unhappy with conflicting theory and thought. We have our fingers in the dyke. Hold steady. Don't let the torrent of melancholy and drear philosophy drown our world. We depend on you. I don't think you realize how important you are, we are, to our happy world as it stands now. Beatty shook Montag's limp hand. Montag still sat, as if the house were collapsing about him and he could not move, in the bed. Mildred had vanished from the door. One last thing,said Beatty. At least once in his career, every fireman gets an itch. What do the books say, he wonders. Oh, to scratch that itch, eh? Well, Montag, take my word for it, I've had to read a few in my time, to know what I was about, and the books say nothing! Nothing you can teach or believe. They're about nonexistent people, figments of imagination, if they're fiction. And if they're nonfiction, it's worse, one professor calling another an idiot, one philosopher screaming down another's gullet. All of them running about, putting out the stars and extinguishing the sun. You come away lost. Well, then, what if a fireman accidentally, really not, intending anything, takes a book home with him? Montag twitched. The open door looked at him with its great vacant eye. A natural error. Curiosity alone, said Beatty. We don't get over- anxious or mad. We let the fireman keep the book twenty?-our hours. If he hasn't burned it by then, we simply come and burn it for him.Of course. Montag's mouth was dry. Well, Montag. Will you take another, later shift, today? Will we see you tonight perhaps?\" I don't know, said Montag. What? Beatty looked faintly surprised. Montag shut his eyes. I'll be in later. Maybe.We'd certainly miss you if you didn't show,said Beatty, putting his pipe in his pocket thoughtfully. I'll never come in again, thought Montag. Get well and keep well,said Beatty. He turned and went out through the open door. Montag watched through the window as Beatty drove away in his gleaming yellow-flame-colored beetle with the black, char-colored tires. Across the street and down the way the other houses stood with their flat fronts. What was it Clarisse had said one afternoon? No front porches. My uncle says there used to be front porches. And people sat there sometimes at night, talking when they wanted to talk, rocking, and not talking when they didn't want to talk. Sometimes they just sat there and thought about things, turned things over. My uncle says the architects got rid of the front porches because they didn't look well. But my uncle says that was merely rationalizing it; the real reason, hidden underneath, might be they didn't want people sitting like that, doing nothing, rocking, talking; that was the wrong kind of social life. People talked too much. And they had time to think. So they ran off with the porches. And the gardens, too. Not many gardens any more to sit around in. And look at the furniture. No rocking chairs any more. They're too comfortable. Get people up and running around. My uncle says . . . and . . . my uncle . . . and . . . my uncle . . . Her voice faded.

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arina- page 82 : theme - social organisation. chapter 2 - the sieve and the sand.

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arina- page 82 : theme - social organisation. chapter 2 - the sieve and the sand.

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"Plant the books, turn in an alarm, and see the firemen's houses burn, is that what you mean?"

Faber raised his brows and looked at Montag as if he were seeing a new man. "I was joking."

"If you thought it would be a plan worth trying, I'd have to take your word it would help."

"You can't guarantee things like that! After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what 🤬 and fools we are. They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, `Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore."

Faber got up and began to pace the room.
"Well?" asked Montag.
"You're absolutely serious?"
"Absolutely."
"It's an insidious plan, if I do say so myself." Faber glanced nervously at his bedroom door. "To see the firehouses burn across the land, destroyed as hotbeds of treason. The salamander devours his tail! Ho, God! "

"I've a list of firemen's residences everywhere. With some sort of underground--"

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Chapter 3 Burning Night (page 131-132) -alya

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Chapter 3 Burning Night (page 131-132) -alya

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Twenty million Montags running, running like an ancient flickery Keystone Comedy, cops, robbers, chasers and the chased, hunters and hunted, he had seen it a thousand times. Behind him now twenty million silently baying Hounds, ricocheted across parlors, three-cushion shooting from right wall to center wall to left wall, gone, right wall, center wall, left wall, gone!

Montag jammed his Seashell to his ear:

"Police suggest entire population in the Elm Terrace area do as follows: Everyone in every house in every street open a front or rear door or look from the windows. The fugitive cannot escape if everyone in the next minute looks from his house. Ready!"

Of course! Why hadn't they done it before! Why, in all the years, hadn't this game been tried! Everyone up, everyone out! He couldn't be missed! The only man running alone in the night city, the only man proving his legs!

"At the count of ten now! One! Two!"

He felt the city rise.

"Three!"

He felt the city turn to its thousands of doors.

"Four!"

The people sleepwalking in their hallways.

"Five!"

He felt their hands on the doorknobs!

The smell of the river was cool and like a solid rain. His throat was burnt rust and his eye were wept dry with running. He yelled as if this yell would jet him on, fling him the last hundred yards.

"Six, seven, eight!"

The doorknobs turned on five thousand doors.

"Nine!"

He ran out away from the last row of houses, on a slope leading down to a solid moving blackness.

"Ten!"

The doors opened.

He imagined thousands on thousands of faces peering into yards, into alleys, and into the sky, faces hid by curtains, pale, night-frightened faces, like gray animals peering from electric caves, faces with gray colorless eyes, gray tongues and gray thoughts looking out through the numb flesh of the face.

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Significant scene - page 97 (Chapter 2 -The Sieve and the sand) - Ashiqin

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Significant scene - page 97 (Chapter 2 -The Sieve and the sand) - Ashiqin

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Mrs. Phelps was crying.
The others in the middle of the desert watched her crying grow very loud as her face squeezed itself out of shape. They sat, not touching her, bewildered by her display. She sobbed uncontrollably. Montag himself was stunned and shaken.
"Sh, sh," said Mildred. "You're all right, Clara, now, Clara, snap out of it! Clara, what's wrong?"
"I-I,", sobbed Mrs. Phelps, "don't know, don't know, I just don't know, oh oh..."
Mrs. Bowles stood up and glared at Montag. "You see? I knew it, that's what I wanted to prove! I knew it would happen! I've always said, poetry and tears, poetry and suicide and crying and awful feelings, poetry and sickness; all that mush! Now I've had it proved to me. You're nasty, Mr. Montag, you're nasty! "
Faber said, "Now..."

Montag felt himself turn and walk to the wall-slot and drop the book in through the brass notch to the waiting flames. "Silly words, silly words, silly awful hurting words," said Mrs. Bowles. "Why do people want to hurt people? Not enough hurt in the world, you've got to tease people with stuff like that ! "
"Clara, now, Clara," begged Mildred, pulling her arm. "Come on, let's be cheery, you turn the `family' on, now. Go ahead. Let's laugh and be happy, now, stop crying, we'll have a party!"
"No," said Mrs. Bowles. "I'm trotting right straight home. You want to visit my house and `family,' well and good. But I won't come in this fireman's crazy house again in my lifetime! "
"Go home." Montag fixed his eyes upon her, quietly. "Go home and think of your first husband divorced and your second husband killed in a jet and your third husband blowing his brains out, go home and think of the dozen abortions you've had, go home and think of that and your 🤬 Caesarian sections, too, and your children who hate your guts! Go home and think how it all happened and what did you ever do to stop it? Go home, go home!" he yelled.

"Before I knock you down and kick you out of the door!"
Doors slammed and the house was empty. Montag stood alone in the winter weather, with the parlour walls the colour of dirty snow.
In the bathroom, water ran. He heard Mildred shake the sleeping tablets into her hand.
"Fool, Montag, fool, fool, oh God you silly fool...

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Interesting & Significant Scene from Fahrenheit 451

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Interesting & Significant Scene from Fahrenheit 451