Murphy Beckett Quotes

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.

She felt, as she felt so often with Murphy, spattered with words that went dead as soon as they sounded; each word obliterated, before it had time to make sense, by the word that came next; so that in the end she did not know what had been said. It was like difficult music heard for the first time.

Yes or no?' said Murphy. The eternal tautology.

You, my body, my mind...one must go.

The sensation of the seat of a chair coming together with his drooping posteriors at last was so delicious that he rose at once and repeated the sit, lingeringly and with intense concentration. Murphy did not so often meet with these tendernesses that he could afford to treat them casually. The second sit, however, was a great disappointment.

But how much more pleasant was the sensation of being a missile without provenance or target, caught up in a tumult of non-Newtonian motion. So pleasant that pleasant was not the word.

So all things limp together for the only possible.

And life in his mind gave him pleasure, such pleasure that pleasure was not the word.

The syndrome known as life is too diffuse to admit of palliation. For every symptom that is eased, another is made worse. The horse leech's daughter is a closed system. Her quantum of wantum cannot vary.

As it is with the love of the body, so with the friendship of the mind, the full is only reached by admittance to the most retired places.

He was split, one part of him never left this mental chamber that pictured itself as a sphere full of light fading into dark, because there was no way out. But motion in this world depended on rest in the world outside. A man is in bed, wanting to sleep. A rat is behind the wall at his head, wanting to move. The man hears the rat fidget and cannot sleep, the rat hears the man fidget and dares not move. They are both unhappy, one fidgeting and the other waiting, or both happy, the rat moving and the man sleeping.

But politeness and candour run together, when one is not fitting neither is the other. Then the occasion calls for silence, that frail partition between the ill-concealed and the ill-revealed, the clumsily false and the unavoidably so.

It was a strange room, the door hanging off its hinges, and yet a telephone. But its last occupant was a harlot, long past her best, which had been scarlet.

the last at last seen of him himself unseen by him and of himself

Nor did he think of Celia any more, though he could sometimes remember having dreamt of her. If only he had been able to think of her, he would not have needed to dream of her.

When the fool supports the knave, the good man may fold his hands. The fool in league with the knave against himself is a combination that none may withstand. Oh, monster of humanity and enlightenment, despairing of a world in which the only natural allies are the fools and knaves, a mankind sterile with self-complicity.

the last at last seen of him himself unseen by him and of himself" A rest. The last Mr. Murphy saw of Mr. Endon was Mr. Murphy unseen by Mr. Endon. This was also the last Murphy saw of Murphy." A rest. The relation between Mr. Murphy and Mr. Endon could not have better summed up than by the former's sorrow at seeing himself in the latter's immunity from seeing anything but himself." A long rest. Mr. Murphy is a speck in Mr. Endon's unseen.

Neary’s conception of friendship was very curious. He expected it to last. He never said, when speaking of an enemy: “He used to be a friend of mine”, but always, with affected precision: “I used to think he was a friend of mine.

Soon his body was quiet.

Yalınlık bir cenaze arabası kadar ağır ve bir idam mahkûmunun son kahvaltısı kadar uzundur.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack full of vipers.

هر عارضه‌ای که تسکین پیدا کند عارضه‌ای دیگر به وخامت می‌گراید. بشر یک چاه است با دو سطل. یکی پایین می‌رود تا پر شود، دیگری بالا می‌آید تا خالی شود ...

Murphy was one of the elect, who require everything to remind them of something else.

A peristalsis of light, worming its way into the dark.

Scratch an old man and find a Quintilian.

Murphy’s respect for the imponderables of personality was profound,

Some hours later Cooper took the packet of ash from his pocket, where earlier in the evening he had put it for greater security, and threw it angrily at a man who had given him great offence. It bounced, burst, off the wall on to the floor, where at once it became the object of much dribbling, passing, trapping, shooting, punching, heading and even some recognition from the gentleman's code. By closing time the body, mind and soul of Murphy were freely distributed over the floor of the saloon; and before another dayspring greyened the earth had been swept away with the sand, the beer, the butts, the glass, the matches, the spits, the vomit.

The ludicrous fever of toys struggling skyward, the sky itself more and more remote, the wind tearing the awning of cloud to tatters, pale limitless blue and green recessions laced with strands of scud, the light failing—once she would have noticed these things.

She was willing a little bit of sweated labour, incapable of betraying the slogan of her slavers, that since the customer or sucker was paying for his gutrot ten times what it cost to produce and five times what it cost to fling in his face, it was only reasonable to defer to his complaints up to but not exceeding fifty per cent of his exploitation.

When the fool supports the knave, the good man may fold his hands. The fool in league with the knave against himself is a combination that none may withstand.

insan bir bilgi birikimine ulaştığında bir şeyler söylemek zorunda kalır ve abuk sabuk laflar eder zorunlu olarak.

Thus as his body set him free more and more in his mind, he took to spending less and less time in the light, spitting at the breakers of the world; and less in the half light, where the choice of bliss introduced an element of effort; and more and more and more in the dark, in the willlessness, a mote in its absolute freedom.

Thus Murphy felt himself split in two, a body and a mind. They had intercourse apparently, otherwise he could not have known that they had anything in common.

Murphy’s mind pictured itself as a large hollow sphere, hermetically closed to the universe without. This was not an impoverishment, for it excluded nothing that it did not itself contain. Nothing ever had been, was or would be in the universe outside it but was already present as virtual, or actual, or virtual rising into actual, or actual falling into virtual, in the universe inside it.

Akıl onu kaybetmekten korkanlara kene gibi yapışırdı. Ya kaybetmeyi umut edenlere...

I’m sorry, but you didn’t make me promise not to worry.” With a big sigh, Jenna said, “Okay, but after this, you have to promise that, too.” “Deal,” Sara said, smirking. After seeing how much and how violently Jenna had been sick not all that many hours ago, Easy was sympathetic to Sara’s worrying.“I’ll clean up this stuff and give you all some privacy,” he said, reaching for the tray. “Thanks for getting dinner for us, Easy,” Jenna said. She looked at him with such gratitude and affection that it both set off a warm pressure in his chest and made him self-conscious—because he was acutely aware that Sara was observing them. She had to know that something was going on. Given how little he thought of himself sometimes, it wasn’t a big leap to imagine others would think the same. Just because Sara had seemed appreciative that he’d helped Jenna didn’t mean she’d approve of anything more. “You know, you set off a milk-shake-making party,” Becca said. Sara laughed. “Yeah. Shane made us shakes, then we took them over to the gym, and Nick was all jealous he didn’t have one.” Grinning, Becca rolled her eyes. “Which was hilarious because he didn’t even know they owned a blender.” Easy stood. “Well, I guess I’m glad I could provide such a valuable service.” He winked and looked at Jenna. “Need anything else while I’m downstairs?” Smiling, she shook her head. “Don’t think so, but thanks.” Easy made his way out of the room and back down to the Rixeys’, where he found all the guys in front of the big flat-screen TV—Nick and Marz kicking back in the recliners, Beckett and Shane sprawled on one couch, and Jeremy and Charlie on the other, with Eileen between them. It was dark in the room except for the flickering light of the screen. A round of greetings rose to meet him. “Sexual Chocolate!” Marz yelled over the others. Easy couldn’t help but smile as his gaze settled on the television, where the classic Eddie Murphy movie Coming to America was playing. One of Easy’s all-time favorites. He placed the tray on the counter, then turned and held his hands out. “Good morning, my neighbors!” he said, mimicking one of the prince’s lines. Right on cue, Marz said in a thick New York accent, “Hey, fuck you!” Easy could quote this movie all day. “Yes, yes! Fuck you, too!” The guys all chuckled, and Easy leaned his butt against the arm of the couch next to Jeremy and got sucked into the movie. Jeremy and Charlie made room for him, and it felt damn good to be with the guys. Not working, not stressed, not under fire. Just kicking back and shooting the shit.

Humanity is a well with two buckets, one going down to be filled, the other coming up to be emptied.

Can I help?” “Hold this.” She handed him the wreath as she climbed the ladder. It wobbled on the hardwood floor. “I guess the floor’s not level.” “Part of the old house charm.” At the top she stretched high, reaching for the bottom of the picture hanging on the wall, then handed it down to him. The ladder wobbled as they swapped pieces. She grabbed onto the sides, but it wobbled again. When she looked down at Murphy, he wore a roguish smile, and his eyes held a mischievous sparkle. “Stop that,” she said. “What?” “It was you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She spared him a look and climbed to the highest safe rung, hoping he had the good sense not to fool with the ladder anymore. The wreath wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward. She tried to hook it on the nail that had held the picture. Missed. She rose on her toes. Just out of reach. She breathed a laugh. “Sheesh.” After another try, she lowered her arms for a rest. The ladder moved. “Stop it.” She steadied herself, then realized the ladder wasn’t wobbling. It was vibrating as Murphy climbed up behind her. “What are you doing?” “Helping.” She tightened her grip. “Get down. It isn’t safe.” “This is the heaviest-duty ladder I sell. Since neither of us weighs three hundred pounds, it’ll be fine.” He stopped behind her, the ladder stilling. The warmth of his chest pressed against her back. The clean, musky scent of his soap teased her nose. Her throat went dry. Her heart flittered around her chest like flurries in a snowstorm. He took the wreath, leaning closer, reaching higher. His thighs pressed against hers. His breath stirred the hairs at her temple. A shiver skated down her spine. Her legs trembled, and she braced a hand against the wall. This is Murphy, Layla. Remember? The guy who practically threw Jessica at Jack? The guy who didn’t bother mentioning that your fiancé was hooking up with your cousin? Even as the thought surfaced, Beckett’s words came back to her. Had she blown Murphy’s role out of proportion? Her thoughts tangled into a snarly knot. Murphy settled the wreath against the wall and leaned back infinitesimally. “That where you want it?” His lips were inches from her ear. If she turned her head just a bit— What the heck, Layla? She gave the wreath a cursory glance. “Yeah.” She didn’t care if it was upside down, backward, and flourishing with a moldy infestation. “Can you get down already?” “You seem a little tense.” His tone teased. Did he know the effect he was having on her? “You’re shaking the ladder, and your weight is straining the capacity.” Her fingers pressed against the wall, going white against the oak paneling. “Have it your way.” He leaned in, his lips close enough to brush her hair. “Let me know if you need any more help.

Kardeşlere gereksinme duyduğunu asla kabul etmemişti. Ama duyuyordu işte. Ardında bıraktığı yaşamla, ona taze umutlar yeşerten henüz başlamadığı yaşam arasında duyumsadığı bu (psikiyatrik/psikotik) çelişki içinde, ikinciden yana koyuyordu tavrını. İlk izlenimleri (hep en iyisidir), iyi şeyler umut etmesi, hastalarla arasında benzerlikler kurması gibi şeyler güçlendiriyordu kanısını. Geriye yalnızca dayanaklar bulmak, bunları yalanlamaya çalışan bütün öteki unsurları ortadan kaldırmak kalıyordu. Zor ama keyifli bir işti. Koğuşlarda geçen her saat, hastalara duyduğu saygıyı ve sağlıklı bir aklın göstergesini dış gerçeklikle kurulan ilişkiye bağlayan sahte bilimsel yaklaşıma duyduğu tiksintiyi artırıyordu zorunlu olarak. Her geçen saat artırıyordu. Dış gerçekliğin doğası anlaşılmaz kalıyordu. Bilimin erkekleri, kadınları ve çocukları veriler önünde boyunlarını bükmek zorunda kalıyordu, ister istemez. Dış gerçekliğin ya da kısacası gerçekliğin tanımı, tanımlayanın duyarlılığına göre değişiyordu. Ama hepsi, bu gerçeklikle temasa geçmenin, temas ne kadar üstünkörü olursa olsun, ender görülen bir ayrıcalık olduğunda birleşir duumdaydı. Bu anlayışın ışığında hastalar gerçeklikten, ortalama birinin gerçekliğinden, ağır vakalarda gözlemlendiği gibi bütünüyle olmasa da en azından bazı temel noktalarda “kopmuş” olarak tanımlanıyorlardı. Tedavinin işlevi hastayı kendi küçük, özel çöplüğünden çıkarıp muhteşem dünyanın merak, sevgi, nefret, tutku, sevinme, ağlama gibi farklı unsurlarıyla, paha biçilmez ayrıcalığına yeniden kavuşacağı ve kendisinden hiç de farklı olmayan ötekilerle akılcı ve dengeli biçimde avunacağı duruma getirmek ve aradaki uçurumu kapamaktı. Ama bütün bunlar, psikiyatrların sürgün diye tanımladığı bedensel ve ussal deneyimi barınak; iyiliksever bir dizgedan kovulmuş olarak değerlendiren, hastalığı da müthiş bir fiyaskodan kaçmış kişiler olarak gören Murphy'yi çileden çıkarıyordu. Eğer aklı günlük olayları yorulmak bilmeyen bir araç gibi alt alta yazıp toplayan şaşmaz bir yazarkasa olsa, o zaman kuşkusuz aklın yitimine üzüntü duyabilirdi. Ama böyle olmadığına göre, aklı diye adlandırdığı şey bir araçtan çok, içinden kendinin soyutlanmış olduğu günlük olayların bir izdüşümü biçiminde ortaya çıktığına göre aklın yok oluşunu, zincirlerinden kurtulmayla özdeşleştirip alkışlamasından daha doğal ne olabilirdi? Murphy'nin saplantısının basitleştirdiği ve çarpıttığı çelişki o halde büyük dünyayla küçük dünyayı temelde karşı karşıya getiriyordu. Hastaların etkisiyle ikincisini, psikiyatrların zorlaması ile ilkini yeğleme arasında kararsızca dolanıyordu. Kararsızlık yalnızca olgular düzlemindeydı. Yalnızca olgular. Seçimini yapmıştı o. "Ben büyük dünyadan değilim, küçük dünyadanım" nakaratı Murphy için epey eskilere dayanıyordu ve olumsuz bir inanca, daha doğrusu olumsuz iki inanca dönüşmüştü. Bir kere mağarasının mutlu manzaralarını gördükten sonra bırakın bunları geliştirip işlemeyi, fiyaskolara nasıl dayanabilirdi? Arnold Geulincx’in güzelim Latincesiyle söylediği gibi: Ubi nihil vales, ibi nihil velis. Ama hiçbir değer taşımadığı bir yerde, hiçbir şey istememesi yeterli olmuyordu, bir adım daha atıp yalnızca kendisini sevebilecek bir ussal aşkın dışında kalan her şeyi yadsıması da yeterli olmuyordu çünkü sevilecek başka yanı yoktu. Bu hiçbir zaman yeterli olmamıştı ve yeterli olabileceğine ilişkin hiçbir belirti göstermiyordu. Bu özellikler ve öteki ikinci derecede önemli şeyler, maddesel düzlemde destek bulsalar (örneğin sallanan iskemle) ve kendileri için her yönde baskı yapsalar da istenen kararın kesinleşmesini başaramazlardı. Parçalanmışlığı sürüyordu; Celia'ya, baharatlı ekmeğe ve benzeri şeylere duyduğu zayıflık bunun göstergesiydi. Tek parçada bütünleşme olanaklarından yoksundu.

No soy, ¿es menester decirlo?, ni Murphy, ni Watt, ni Mercier -no, no quiero volver a nombrarlos- ni ninguno de los otros, de los cuales he olvidado hasta los nombres, que me dijeron que yo era ellos, que debía intentar serlo, a la fuerza, por miedo.

Hastalar hasta bakıcıları sık sık, doktorları da nadir gördükleri için ilkini işkenceciler, ikincileri de kurtarıcı olarak değerlendirirdi.

He found it hard to think, his body seemed spread over a vast area, parts would wander away and get lost if he did not keep a sharp look-out, he felt them fidgeting to be off.

The melancholic’s melancholy, the manic’s fits of fury, the paranoid’s despair, were no doubt as little autonomous as the long fat face of a mute. Left in peace they would have been as happy as Larry, short for Lazarus, whose raising seemed to Murphy perhaps the one occasion on which the Messiah had overstepped the mark.

I. What value is to be attached to the theory that Eve sprang, not from Adam's rib, but from a tumour in the fat of his leg (arse?). 2. Did the serpent crawl or, as Comestor affirms, walk upright? 3. Did Mary conceive through the ear, as Augustine and Adobard assert? 4. How much longer are we to hang about waiting for the antechrist? 5. Does it really matter which hand is employed to absterge the podex? 6. What is one to think of the Irish oath sworn by the natives with the right hand on the relics of the saints and the left on the v i r ile member? 7. Does nature observe the sabbath? 8. Is it true that the devils do not feel the pains of hell? 9. The algebraic theology of Craig. What is one to think of this? 10. Is it true that the infant Saint-Roch refused suck on Wednesdays and Fridays? II. What is one to think of the excommunication of vermin in t he sixteenth century? 12. Is one to approve of the Italian cobbler Lovat who, having cut off his testicles, crucified himself. 13. What was God doing with himself before the creation? 14. Might not the beatific vision become a source of boredom, in the long run? 15. Is it true that Judas' torments are suspended on Saturdays? 16. What if the mass for the dead were read over the living? And I recited the pretty quietist Pater, Our Father who art no more in heaven than on earth or in hell, I neither want nor desire that thy name be hallowed, thou knowest best what suits thee. Etc. The middle and the end are very pretty. It was in this frivolous and charming world that I took refuge, when my cup ran over. But I asked myself other questions concerning me perhaps more c!osely. As for example. 1. Why had I not borrowed a few shillings from Gaber? 2. Why had I obeyed the order to go home? 3. What had become of Molloy? 4. Same question for me. 5. What would become of me? 6. Same question for my son. 7. Was his mother in heaven? 8. Same question for my mother. 9. Would I go to heaven ? 10. Would we all meet again in heaven one day, I. my mother, my son. his mother, Youdi, Gaber. Molloy, his mother, Yerk, Murphy, Watt, Camier and the rest? 11. What had become of my hens. my bees? Was my grey hen still living? 12. Zulu, the Elsner sisters, were they still living? 13. Was Youdi's business address still 8, Acacia Square? What if I wrote to him? What if I went to see him? I would explain to him. What would I explain to him? I would crave his forgive ness. Forgiveness for what? 14. Was not the winter exceptionally severe? 15. How long had I gone now without either confession or communion? 16. What was the name of the martyr who, being in prison, loaded with chains, covered with wounds and vermin. unable to stir, celebrated the consecration on his stomach and gave himself absolution? 17. What would I do until my death? Was there no means of hastening this, without falling into a state of sin? But before I launch my body properly so-called across these icy. then. with the thaw, muddy solitudes. I wish to say that I often thought of my bees, more often than of my hens. and God knows I thought often of my hemore c!osely. As for example. 1. Why had I not borrowed a few shillings from Gaber? 2. Why had I obeyed the order to go home? 3. What had become of Molloy? 4. Same question for me. 5. What would become of me? 6. Same question for my son. 7. Was his mother in heaven? 8. Same question for my mother. 9. Would I go to heaven ? 10. Would we all meet again in heaven one day, I. my mother, my son. his mother, Youdi, Gaber. Molloy, his mother, Yerk, Murphy, Watt, Camier and the rest? 11. What had become of my hens. my bees? Was my grey hen still living? 12. Zulu, the Elsner sisters, were they still living? 13. Was Youdi's business address still 8, Acacia Square? What if I wrote to him? What if I went to see him? I would explain to him. What would I explain to him? I would crave his forgive ness. Forgiveness for what?

He had a curious hunted walk, like that of a destitute diabetic in a strange city.

I. What value is to be attached to the theory that Eve sprang, not from Adam's rib, but from a tumour in the fat of his leg (arse?). 2. Did the serpent crawl or, as Comestor affirms, walk upright? 3. Did Mary conceive through the ear, as Augustine and Adobard assert? 4. How much longer are we to hang about waiting for the antechrist? 5. Does it really matter which hand is employed to absterge the podex? 6. What is one to think of the Irish oath sworn by the natives with the right hand on the relics of the saints and the left on the v i r ile member? 7. Does nature observe the sabbath? 8. Is it true that the devils do not feel the pains of hell? 9. The algebraic theology of Craig. What is one to think of this? 10. Is it true that the infant Saint-Roch n:fused suck on Wed nesdays and Fridays? II. What is one to think of the excommunication of vermin in t he sixteenth century? 12. Is one to approve of the Italian cobbler Lovat who, having cut off his testicles, crucified himself. 13. What was God doing with himself before the creation? 14. Might not the beatific vision become a source of boredom, in the long run? 15. Is it true that Judas' torments are suspended on Saturdays? 16. What if the mass for the dead were read over the living? And I recited the pretty quietist Pater, Our Father who art no more in heaven than on earth or in hell, I neither want nor desire that thy name be hallowed, thou knowest best what suits thee. Etc. The middle and the end are very pretty. It was in this frivolous and charming world that I took refuge, when my cup ran over. But I asked myself other questions concerning me perhaps more c!osely. As for example. 1. Why had I not borrowed a few shillings from Gaber? 2. Why had I obeyed the order to go home? 3. What had become of Molloy? 4. Same question for me. 5. What would become of me? 6. Same question for my son. 7. Was his mother in heaven? 8. Same question for my mother. 9. Would I go to heaven ? 10. Would we all meet again in heaven one day, I. my mother, my son. his mother, Youdi, Gaber. Molloy, his mother, Yerk, Murphy, Watt, Camier and the rest? 11. What had become of my hens. my bees? Was my grey hen still living? 12. Zulu, the Elsner sisters, were they still living? 13. Was Youdi's business address still 8, Acacia Square? What if I wrote to him? What if I went to see him? I would explain to him. What would I explain to him? I would crave his forgive ness. Forgiveness for what? 14. Was not the winter exceptionally severe? 15. How long had I gone now without either confession or communion? 16. What was the name of the martyr who, being in prison, loaded with chains, covered with wounds and vermin. unable to stir, celebrated the consecration on his stomach and gave himself absolution? 17. What would I do until my death? Was there no means of hastening this, without falling into a state of sin? But before I launch my body properly so-called across these icy. then. with the thaw, muddy solitudes. I wish to say that I often thought of my bees, more often than of my hens. and God knows I thought often of my hens. And I thought above all of their dance, for my bees danced, oh not as men dance, to amuse themselves. but in a different way