I was certainly sad about the passing of Ray Bradbury. But all I had ever heard about him was from people who met him was that he could be quick with criticism and that he didn't appreciate the smart-mouthed remarks of a bunch of Harvard Graduates.
Okay, I thought. He's definitely earned his chops, so I was happy enough that he was a brilliant author that had reached me with his work.
Then I read "The Man Who Forgot Ray Bradbury", followed shortly after by my reading the story behind the story.
I read of Neil Gaiman's impressions of Ray Bradbury and the story he told was almost of an entirely different person than the one I had been told of. It was Neil Gaiman's words that moved me to tears over Ray Bradbury's passing.
I write, because if I did anything else with the ideas in my head, I'd go to prison.
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