There are quite a few diagnoses for these unpleasant symptoms, but I can assure you, it is too soon to assume that Montag’s sickness is love. There are many instances where Clarisse’s youthful innocence is a constant reminder of what Montag lacks and envies. Clarisse’s curiosity, insight, and attitude to life are what draws him to her in awe. To Montag, Clarisse is an amazing specimen to examine, and as he watches her, he squirms. But in this particular case, in which you ask why he squirms, there is only one answer. Clarisse is a mirror of the very important things Montag has forgotten and is unaware of. “Oh really now, doctor?” The doctor’s conclusion was very interesting indeed.

“…Isn’t this a nice time of night to walk? I like to smell things and look at things, and sometimes stay up all night, walking, watch the sunrise.” Clarisse is a red balloon that has floats aimlessly in the sky. She is full of have you evers, did you knows, and if you looks and my uncles. She is immediately unavoidable, and her thoughts are very airy and free. She doesn’t bother herself with the woes of the world, and she focuses on care free activities. Everything she does is odd, for the day and age set in this story. Clarisse is the sunshine peeking through the gloomy weather.

Montag is constantly intrigued by her. He can’t look away, even if he wanted to. His body can’t resist reacting to Clarisse’s outrageous antics. He’s constantly finding himself responding with you are an odd one. She’s so strange to Montag that he finds her lingering in his thoughts, long after she’s gone. And she ran off and left him standing there in the rain. Only after a long time did he move. “Please do get to the point doctor.” The doctor was making anxious with anticipation.

“And if you look… There’s a man on the moon.” He hadn’t looked for a long time. They walked the rest of the way in silence, hers thoughtful, his a kind of clenching and uncomfortable silence in which he shot her accusing glances. She made him remember how old he’s become. It’s quite a bitter feeling, realizing how young you are no longer. His accusing glances were a finger pointing the blame on a girl who was just stating the facts, a girl who possessed the innocence he had lost. Montag really hates eating chicken (in reference to previous response). He swallows every bite defiantly, as if he’s about to choke.

“…That’s why I think it’s so strange that you’re a fireman. It just doesn’t seem right for you, somehow.” He felt his body divide into a hotness and a coldness, a softness and a hardness, a trembling and a not trembling, the two halves grinding one upon another. Clarisse adheres to such a nasty talent. She made Montag question himself yet again. He thought he was so defined in his passion for burning books. Now, he was no longer sure if he knew anything at all. He lived so long with one kind of belief. And then in a matter of one sentence, Montag was forced to question his very way of life. She always did that so well, making him feel so uncomfortable with himself. “It’s just like when you told me there was no Santa Clause Doctor! The doctor and Clarisse are very much alike, they’re always spoiling dinner.” The doctor chuckled.

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