Dig this, from the opening lines of Chapter 28:
THE NIGHT was sweet with the dust of autumn leaves that smelled as if the fine sands of ancient Egypt were drifting to dunes beyond the town. How come, thought Will, at a time like this, I can even think of four thousand years of dust of ancient people sliding around the world, and me sad because no one notices except me and Dad here maybe, and even us not telling each other.
It was indeed a time between, one second their thoughts all brambled airedale, the next all silken slumbering cat. It was a time to go to bed, yet still they lingered reluctant as boys to give over and wander in wide circles to pillow and night thoughts. It was a time to say much but not all. It was a time after first discoveries but not last ones. It was wanting to know everything and wanting to know nothing . It was the new sweetness of men starting to talk as they must talk. It was the possible bitterness of revelation.
Bradbury, Ray (2013-04-23). Something Wicked This Way Comes (Greentown) (p. 133). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.
That kind of literary symmetry reminds me of Dickens “best of times, worst of times” style.
It’s brilliant. Go buy the book!