26
" Pensa all’asimmetria. Questo è un mondo, pensa, in cui puoi startene a letto a sentire una canzone mentre sogni la persona che ami, e i tuoi sentimenti e la canzone si fanno eco a vicenda in modo così potente e completo che sembra impossibile che l’amata, chiunque e ovunque sia, non se ne accorga, non riceva il segnale che pulsa dal tuo cuore, come se tu e la musica e l’amore e tutto l’universo siate fusi in un’unica forza che può essere incanalata verso l’esterno, nell’oscurità, per portargli il messaggio. Ma nella realtà, non solo lei o lui non sapranno nulla, ma non c’è neanche qualcosa che impedisca a quell’altra persona di starsene a letto esattamente nello stesso momento a sentire esattamente la stessa canzone e pensare a qualcun altro - di indirizzare gli stessi sentimenti in una direzione del tutto differente, verso una persona completamente diversa, che a sua volta potrebbe starsene nel buio a pensare a un’altra persona, una quarta, che a sua volta pensa a una quinta, e così via all’infinito; e dunque, invece di un mondo di coppie che si ricambiano precisamente, dove l’innamorato e colei o colui che lo corrisponde solcano lo spazio in modo preciso e meraviglioso come tante paia di ali di farfalla, ci ritroviamo una catena di struggimenti, che si espande e si avvita su se stessa e finisce in un numero infinito di vicoli ciechi. "
― Paul Murray , Skippy Dies
28
" You know, you spend your childhood watching TV, assuming that at some point in the future everything you see there will one day happen to you: that you too will win a Formula One race, hop a train, foil a group of terrorists, tell someone 'Give me the gun', etc. Then you start secondary school, and suddenly everyone's asking you about your career plans and your long-term goals, and by goals they don't mean the kind you are planning to score in the FA Cup. Gradually the awful truth dawns on you: that Santa Claus was just the tip of the iceberg — that your future will not be the rollercoaster ride you'd imagined, that the world occupied by your parents, the world of washing the dishes, going to the dentist, weekend trips to the DIY superstore to buy floor-tiles, is actually largely what people mean when they speak of 'life'. Now, with every day that passes, another door seems to close, the one marked PROFESSIONAL STUNTMAN, or FIGHT EVIL ROBOT, until as the weeks go by and the doors — GET BITTEN BY SNAKE, SAVE WORLD FROM ASTEROID, DISMANTLE BOMB WITH SECONDS TO SPARE — keep closing, you begin to hear the sound as a good thing, and start closing some yourself, even ones that didn't necessarily need to be closed. "
― Paul Murray , Skippy Dies
33
" Non-teenagers might find his appeal difficult to understand, as he isn’t especially handsome, or big, or even funny; his features are striking only in their regularity, the overall effect being one of solidity, steadiness, the quiet self-assurance one might associate with, for instance, a long-established and successful bank. But that, in fact, is the whole point. One look at Titch, in his regulation Dubarrys, Ireland jersey and freshly topped-up salon tan, and you can see his whole future stretched out before him: you can tell that he will, when he leaves this place, go on to get a good job (banking/insurance/consultancy), marry a nice girl (probably from the Dublin 18 area), settle down in a decent neighbourhood (see above) and about fifteen years from now produce a Titch Version 2.0 who will think his old man is a bit of a knob sometimes but basically all right. The danger of him ever drastically changing – like some day joining a cult, or having a nervous breakdown, or developing out of nowhere a sudden burning need to express himself and taking up some ruinously expensive and embarrassing-to-all-that-know-him discipline, like modern dance, or interpreting the songs of Joni Mitchell in a voice that, after all these years, is revealed to be disquietingly feminine – is negligible. Titch, in short, is so remarkably unremarkable that he has become a kind of embodiment of his socioeconomic class; a friendship/sexual liaison with Titch has therefore come to be seen as a kind of self-endorsement, a badge of Normality, which at this point in life is a highly prized commodity. "
― Paul Murray , Skippy Dies