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Quote by Stephen Richards

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Stephen Richards

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“— È vero, — disse lei — che l’Inghilterra è come un sogno? Me l’ha scritto una mia amica che ha sposato un inglese. Ha detto che quella città, Londra, a volte è come un sogno cupo e freddo. Io voglio stare sveglia.— Be’, — risposi seccato — la tua bella isola a me fa proprio lo stesso effetto, del tutto irreale e come un sogno. — Ma come possono essere irreali i fiumi, le montagne e il mare? — E come possono essere irreali milioni di persone, le loro case e le loro strade? — Questo è più facile, — disse lei — molto più facile. Sì, una grande città dev’essere come un sogno. «No,» pensai «è questo ad essere irreale e come un sogno».”

“Which one hadn't he walked down? Was it Barkovitch? Collie Parker? Percy What'shisname? Who was it? 'GARRATY!' the crowd screamed deliriously. 'GARRATY, GARRATY, GARRATY!' Was it Scramm? Gribble? Davidson? A hand on his shoulder. Garraty shook it off impatiently. The dark figure beckoned, beckoned in the rain, beckoned for him to come and walk, to come and play the game. And it was time to get started. There was still so far to walk.”

“I admire you, and yet at times it seems to me as if you were deranged. Or is it not a sort of mental derangement that you subject to such a degree every passion, every emotion of the heart, every mood, to the cold discipline of reflection? Is it not mental derangement to be so normal, to be a mere idea, not a human being like the rest of us, pliant and yielding, capable of being lost and of losing ourselves? Is it not mental derangement to be always awake, always sure, never obscure and dreaming?”