When Guy first meets Clarisse in Part 1, her kindness and interest in conversation confuse him. In a stream of consciousness moment, he describes her face with metaphorical language and imagery, and finally has a flashback that reminds him of Clarisse.
He saw himself in her eyes, suspended in two shining drops of bright water, himself dark and tiny, in fine detail, the lines about his mouth, everything there, as if her eyes were two miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him intact. Her face, turned to him now, was fragile milk crystal with a soft and constant light in it. It was not the hysterical light of electricity but—what? But the strangely comfortable and rare and gently flattering light of the candle. One time, as a child, in a power failure, his mother had found and lit a last candle and there had been a brief hour of rediscovery, of such illumination that space lost its vast dimensions and drew comfortably around them, and they, mother and son, alone, transformed, hoping that the power might not come on again too soon. . . .
Guy looks at Clarisse, trying to understand what is special about her. Bradbury often uses a stream of consciousness style to help the reader imagine Guy's train of thought, and this moment is no different. Guy describes Clarisse's face and demeanor increasingly impressionistically and abstractly, then finally slips into a flashback that ends with an ellipsis.
First, her face is described with imagery. Her eyes metaphorically are "two shining drops of bright water" that reflect an image of Guy back to himself, then they are "violet amber." Amber captures bugs and suspends them, just as Guy feels somehow captured and understood by Clarisse. Her face is first metaphorically "fragile milk crystal," then has the "light of a candle." It is this candlelight metaphor that sends Guy into his flashback about his mother. Unlike other literal and metaphorical fire in the novel, candles do not indicate destruction. Here, Guy's fond memory of candlelight, and his preference for it over "hysterical" electric light, could be read as connected to a larger distrust of mass media and other new technologies in the novel.
In Part 1, a disturbed Guy sits in the firehouse while his coworkers play cards. His impressions of the event are relayed in a stream of consciousness style that mimics his half-awake state, and the imagery and metaphor make his experience and doubts vivid even though he is simply sitting still with his eyes closed.
The flutter of cards, motion of hands, of eyelids, the drone of the time-voice in the firehouse ceiling “. . . one thirty-five, Thursday morning, November 4th, . . . one thirty-six . . . one thirty-seven A.M. . . .” The tick of the playing cards on the greasy table top, all the sounds came to Montag, behind his closed eyes, behind the barrier he had momentarily erected. He could feel the firehouse full of glitter and shine and silence, of brass colors, the colors of coins, of gold, of silver. The unseen men across the table were sighing on their cards, waiting. “. . . one forty-five. . . .” The voice clock mourned out the cold hour of a cold morning of a still colder year.
In this stream-of-consciousness moment, Bradbury uses ellipses, lists, and sonic imagery to illustrate Guy's headspace as he thinks. It's not that Guy is thinking of anything, or generating any ideas; instead, the stream of consciousness style is used to show that Guy takes in the impressions around him, feels time moving by slowly, thinks of the firehouse, and doesn't necessarily feel comfortable there.
A metaphor compares Guy's closed eyes to a "barrier he had momentarily erected." Guy tries and fails to find a way to block out the career and society he suddenly finds distasteful—by closing his eyes. Nevertheless, he still imagines the firehouse that surrounds him. Interestingly, Bradbury uses visual imagery to describe the firehouse even though Guy's eyes are closed!
In Part 3, after Guy has undergone an immense amount of trauma, Bradbury describes Guy's mental breakdown with fragmented flashbacks and similes in a stream of consciousness style.
His flesh gripped him and shrank as if it had been plunged in acid. He gagged. He saw Beatty, a torch, not moving, fluttering out on the grass. He bit at his knuckles. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh God, sorry. . . . He tried to piece it all together, to go back to the normal pattern of life a few short days ago before the sieve and the sand, Denham’s Dentifrice, moth voices, fireflies, the alarms and excursions, too much for a few short days, too much, indeed, for a lifetime.
The passage starts with a simile which describes Guy's physiological reaction to all the stress he's under: "his flesh [...] shrank as if it had been plunged in acid." After this, the writing moves back and forth from brief flashbacks (such as his memory of Beatty's death) and Guy's present reaction to the stress he's undergoing, such as biting his knuckles. Bradbury renders this moment in fragmented prose, a stream of consciousness combination of unexplained and contextless phrases and images. Guy tries verbal and physical coping mechanisms, but he cannot order his thoughts, as reflected by the writing style. These devices, used in conjunction, plunge readers deep into Guy's inner turmoil.