Postal 1 Quotes

Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?

Did I do anything last night that suggested I was sane?

Steal five dollars and you're a common thief. Steal thousands and you're either the government or a hero.

What kind of man would put a known criminal in charge of a major branch of government? Apart from, say, the average voter.

I commend my soul to any god that can find it.

Sometimes the truth is arrived at by adding all the little lies together and deducting them from the totality of what is known.

Look, he said to his imagination, if this is how you're going to behave, I shan't bring you again.

People flock in, nevertheless, in search of answers to those questions only librarians are considered to be able to answer, such as "Is this the laundry?" "How do you spell surreptitious?" and, on a regular basis, "Do you have a book I remember reading once? It had a red cover and it turned out they were twins.

The U.S. Postal Service should hire him for an ad campaign. If he were at the mailbox every time you sent a letter, no one would use email ever again.

There is always a choice." "You mean I could choose certain death?" "A choice nevertheless, or perhaps an alternative. You see I believe in freedom. Not many people do, although they will of course protest otherwise. And no practical definition of freedom would be complete without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based.

And no practical definition of freedom would be complete without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based.

You know how to pray, don’t you? Just put your hands together and hope.

If he'd been a hero, he would have taken the opportunity to say, "That's what I call sorted!" Since he wasn't a hero, he threw up.

There was no safety. There was no pride. All there was, was money. Everything became money, and money became everything. Money treated us as if we were things, and we died.

See a pin and pick it up, and, all day long, you'll have a pin.

If you kept changing the way people saw the world, you ended up changing the way you saw yourself.

Welcome to fear, said Moist to himself. It's hope, turned inside out. You know it can't go wrong, you're sure it can't go wrong...But it might.

What a place! What a situation! What kind of man would put a known criminal in charge of a major branch of government? Apart from, say, the average voter.

They say that the prospect of being hanged in the morning concentrates a man's mind wonderfully; unfortunately, what the mind inevitably concentrates on is that, in the morning, it will be in a body that is going to be hanged.

In defiance of Miss Maccalariat I'd like to commit hanky-panky with you, Miss Adora Belle Dearheart... well, certainly hanky, and possibly panky when we get to know one another better.

But, in truth, it had not exactly been gold, or even the promise of gold, but more like the fantasy of gold, the fairy dream that the gold is there, at the end of the rainbow, and will continue to be there forever - provided, naturally, that you don't go and look. This is known as finance.

Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries.

Raise the stakes! Always push your luck because no one else would push it for you.

Every organization needs at least one person who knows what's going on, and why it's happening, and who's doing it.

The people who guard the rainbow don't like those who get in the way of the sun.

Moist was sure doctors keep skeletons around to cow patients. Nyer, nyer, we know what you look underneath ...

It was also a room full of books and made of books. There was no actual furniture; this is to say, the desk and chairs were shaped out of books. It looked as though many of them were frequently referred to, because they lay open with other books used as bookmarks.

Startled, I flinched "What are you doing?" "Keeping you from going postal." "You're doing it wrong.

Never promise to do the possible. Anyone could do the possible. You should promise to do the impossible, because sometimes the impossible was possible, if you could find the right way, and at least you could often extend the limits of the possible. And if you failed, well, it had been impossible.

Do you understand what I'm saying?" shouted Moist. "You can't just go around killing people!" "Why Not? You Do." The golem lowered his arm. "What?" snapped Moist. "I do not! Who told you that?" "I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People," said the golem calmly. "I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr Pump. I may be–– all the things you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!" "No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Do Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game.

Any ignorant fool can fail to turn someone else into a frog. You have to be clever to refrain from doing it when you know how easy it is.

Nothing-to-see is what most of the universe consists of.

I wonder if it's like this for mountain climbers, he thought. You climb bigger and bigger mountains and you know that one day one of them is going to be just that bit too steep. But you go on doing it, because it’s so-o good when you breathe the air up there. And you know you'll die falling.

But…but you can’t treat religion as a sort of buffet, can you? I mean, you can’t say yes please, I’ll have some of the Celestial Paradise and a helping of the Divine Plan but go easy on the kneeling and none of the Prohibition of Images, they give me wind. Its table d´hôte or nothing, otherwise…well, it would be silly.

A man can learn all of an opponent's weaknesses on that board,' said Gilt. 'Really?' said Vetinari, raising his eyebrows. 'Should not he be trying to learn his own?

Mr Horsefry was a youngish man, not simply running to fat but vaulting, leaping and diving towards obesity. He had acquired at thirty an impressive selection of chins, and now they wobbled with angry pride.* * It is wrong to judge by appearances. Despite his expression, which was that of a piglet having a bright idea, and his mode of speech, which might put you in mind of a small, breathless, neurotic but ridiculously expensive dog, Mr Horsefry might well have been a kind, generous and pious man. In the same way, the man climbing out of your window in a stripy jumper, a mask and a great hurry might merely be lost on the way to a fancy-dress party, and the man in the wig and robes at the focus of the courtroom might only be a transvestite who wandered in out of the rain. Snap judgements can be so unfair.

Words have power, you understand? It is in the nature of our universe. Our library itself distorts time and space on quite a grand scale. Well, when the Post Office started accumulating letters, it was storing words. In fact, what was being created was what we call a 'gevaisa', a tomb of living words.

I was secretly convinced that with such a marvel one would be able to write anything, from novels to encyclopedias, and letters whose supernatural power would surpass any postal limitations--a letter written with that pen would reach the most remote corners of the world, even that unknowable place to which my father said my mother had gone and from where she would never return.

The only way to get something to turn up when you need it is to need it to turn up.

Theres no stink more sorrorful than the stink of wet, burnt paper. It means: the end.

Welcome to fear, Moist said to himself. It's hope, turned inside out.

Where's the sense in promising to achive the achievable?

Pretty show, but you're wasting energy and time," Max said. "Mind if we get back to saving Horngate? You can go postal later.

Oh, that's just Thud! That's easy!" yapped a voice. Both men turned to look at Horsefry, who had been made perky by sheer relief. "I used to play it when I was a kid," he burbled. It's boring. The dwarfs always win!" Gilt and Vetinari shared a look. It said: While I loathe you and every aspect of your personal philosophy to a depth unplummable by any line, I'll credit you at least with not being Crispin Horsefry.

It was a little like stealing. It was exactly like stealing. It was, in fact, stealing. But there was no law against it because no one knew the crime existed, so is it really stealing if what’s stolen isn’t missed? And is it stealing if you’re stealing from thieves? Anyway, all property is theft, except mine.

I curse when I get really upset. Letting off steam that way makes me feel a little bit better. I've been through a lot, but I have never had the urge to go postal. I thank fuck for that.

His mouth said: "Would you like to have dinner tonight?" For just the skin of a second, Miss Dearheart was surprised, but not half as surprised as Moist. Then her natural cynicism reinflated. "I like to have dinner every night. With you? No. I have things to do. Thank you for asking." "No problem," said Moist, slightly relieved.

The Post Office was the underdog, and an underdog can always find somewhere soft to bite.

You have made quite a splash,” said Vetinari, smiling, “as the fish said to the man with the lead weight tied to his feet.

It was the heart of any scam or fiddle -- keep the punter uncertain, or, if he is certain, make him certain of the wrong thing.

The mere fact you're delivering any will help, I'm sure," said Professor Pelc, smiling like a doctor telling a man not to worry, the disease is only fatal in 87 per cent of cases.

Ahh! They're all just pins!

Adora Belle fought back, and to make sure fought back even before she was attacked.

The figure stopped to cough long and hard, making a noise like a wall being hit repeatedly with a bag of rocks. Moist saw that it had a beard of the short bristled type that suggested that its owner had been interrupted halfway through eating a hedgehog.

That was an important rule of any game: always make it easy for people to give you money.

There was a definite feel about Adora Belle Dearheart that a lid was only barely holding down an entire womanful of anger.

Pero no había ninguna postal de esto. De la vida.

Stanley always followed the rules. All sorts of things could go wrong if you didn't. So far he'd done 1:Upon Discovery of the Fire, Remain Calm. Now he'd come to 2: Shout 'Fire!' in a Loud, Clear Voice. 'Fire!' he shouted, and then ticked off 2 with his pencil. Next was: 3: Endeavour to Extinguish Fire If Possible. Stanley went to the door and opened it. Flames and smoke billowed in. He stared at them for a moment, shook his head, and shut the door. Paragraph 4 said: If Trapped by Fire, Endeavour to Escape. Do Not Open Doors If Warm. Do Not Use Stairs If Burning. If No Exit Presents Itself Remain Calm and Await a) Rescue or b) Death.

That's the fashion. Fast as the speed of light, they say. Ha! It's got no soul, sir, no heart.

V tomhle byli lidé opravdu zvláštní. Ukradnete sto tolarů a jste malý zlodějíček. Ukradnete statisíce a jste buď vláda, nebo hrdina.

Being an absolute ruler today was not as simple as people thought. At least, it was not simple if your ambitions included being an absolute ruler tomorrow. There were subtleties. Oh, you could order men to smash down doors and drag people off the dungeons without trial, but too much of that sort of thing lacked style and anyway was bad for business, habit-forming and very, very dangerous for your health. A thinking tyrant, it seemed to Vetinari, had a much harder job than a ruler raised to power by some idiot vote-yourself-rich system like democracy. At least they could tell the people he was their fault.

There was a steady drizzle when they left for the tower. Moist drove the cart, with the others sitting on the load behind him and bickering over trigonometry. Moist tried not to listen; he got lost when maths started to get silly.

You had to admire the way perfectly innocent words were mugged, ravished, stripped of all true meaning and decency, and then sent to walk the gutter for Reacher Gilt, although “synergistically” had probably been a whore from the start.

Doesn't this place give you the creeps? You could perhaps do something with some floral wallpaper and a fire-bomb.

The headlines screamed at him as soon as he saw the paper. He almost screamed back.

Not doing any magic at all was the chief task of wizards—not "not doing magic" because they couldn't do magic, but not doing magic when they could do and didn't. Any ignorant fool can fail to turn someone else into a frog. You have to be clever to refrain from doing it when you knew how easy it was. There were places in the world commemorating those times when wizards hadn't been quite as clever as that, and on many of them the grass would never grow again.

Miss Dearheart gave him a very brief look, and shook her head. There was movement under the table, a small fleshy kind of noise and the drunk suddenly bent forward, colour draining from his face. Probably only he and Moist heard Miss Dearheart purr: ‘What is sticking in your foot is a Mitzy “Pretty Lucretia” four-inch heel, the most dangerous footwear in the world. Considered as pounds per square inch, it’s like being trodden on by a very pointy elephant. Now, I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking, “Could she press it all the way through to the floor?” And, you know, I’m not sure about that myself. The sole of your boot might give me a bit of trouble, but nothing else will. But that’s not the worrying part. The worrying part is that I was forced practically at knifepoint to take ballet lessons as a child, which means I can kick like a mule; you are sitting in front of me; and I have another shoe . Good, I can see you have worked that out. I’m going to withdraw the heel now.’ There was a small ‘pop’ from under the table. With great care the man stood up, turned and, without a backward glance, lurched unsteadily away. ‘Can I bother you?’ said Moist. Miss Dearheart nodded, and he sat down, with his legs crossed. ‘He was only a drunk,’ he ventured. ‘Yes, men say that sort of thing,’ said Miss Dearheart.

La única manera de que algo se presente cuando lo necesitas es necesitar que se presente.

nunca se sabe hasta que uno lo intenta.

no había ninguna ley que lo prohibiera porque nadie sabía que el crimen existía,

-En ese caso -dijo Húmedo von Mustachen-, encomiendo mi alma al dios que pueda encontrarla.

When Reacher Gilt talks about freedom, he means his, not anyone else's.

Vivi tenía unas ojeras tan grandes que merecían su propio código postal

No practical definition of freedom would be completely without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based. -Lord Havelock Vetinari-

You hardly know me and yet you invited me out on a date,’ said Miss Dearheart. ‘Why?’ Because you called me a phoney, Moist thought. You saw through me straight away. Because you didn’t nail my head to the door with your crossbow. Because you have no small talk. Because I’d like to get to know you better, even though it would be like smooching an ashtray. Because I wonder if you could put into the rest of your life the passion you put into smoking a cigarette. In defiance of Miss Maccalariat I’d like to commit hanky-panky with you, Miss Adora Belle Dearheart… well, certainly hanky, and possibly panky when we get to know one another better. I’d like to know as much about your soul as you know about mine… He said: ‘Because I hardly know you.’ ‘If it comes to that, I hardly know you, either,’ said Miss Dearheart. ‘I’m rather banking on that,’ said Moist. This got a smile. ‘Smooth answer. Slick. Where are we really eating tonight?

L'America è meglio tenerla così, sempre sullo sfondo, una specie di cartolina postale a cui guardare nei momenti di debolezza. Così, tu t'immagini che sia sempre là ad attenderti, immutata, intatta, un grande spazio aperto patriottico con vacche, pecore e uomini dal cuore buono, pronti a fottersi tutto quello che vedono, uomo donna o bestia. Non esiste l'America. E' un nome che si dà a un'idea astratta. Parigi è come una puttana. Da lontano pare incantevole, non vedi l'ora di averla fra le braccia. E cinque minuti dopo ti senti vuoto, schifato di te stesso. Ti senti truffato.

Gods tend to be more interested in prophets, not profits, a-ha." There were some blank looks from his fellow directors. "Didn't quite get that one, old chap," said Stowley. "Prophets, I said, not profits," said Gilt. He waved his hand. "Don't worry yourselves, it will look better written down.

What was magic, after all, but something that happened at the snap of a finger? Where was the magic in that? It was mumbled words and weird drawings in old books, and in the wrong hands it was as dangerous as hell, but not one half as dangerous as it could be in the right hands. The universe was full of the stuff; it made the stars stay up and the feet stay down. But what was happening now . . . this was magical. Ordinary men had dreamed it up and put it together, building towers on rafts in swamps and across the frozen spines of mountains. They’d cursed and, worse, used logarithms. They’d waded through rivers and dabbled in trigonometry. They hadn’t dreamed, in the way people usually used the word, but they’d imagined a different world, and bent metal around it. And out of all the sweat and swearing and mathematics had come this . . . thing, dropping words across the world as softly as starlight.

Pero el truco era añadirle destellos. Contabas a la gente lo que tenías intención de hacer y la gente creía que eras capaz de hacerlo. Aquel viaje a caballo podría haberlo realizado cualquiera. Nadie lo había hecho. Todos seguían esperando a que se repararan los clacs.

As if one tiny choice by someone unimportant could make that much difference! History had to be a bit tougher than that. It all sprang back eventually, didn't it? He was sure he'd read something about that, somewhere. If it wasn't like that, no one would ever dare do anything.

Creen que si siguen a bordo todo se arreglará. No se atreven a pensar que todo es un sueño. Solo hay que usar palabras grandilocuentes para decirles que tendrán mermelada mañana y les das esperanza. Pero nunca ganarán. Una parte de ellos lo sabe, pero ninguna de las otras partes presta atención. La casa siempre gana.

Húmedo estaba seguro de que los médicos tenían esqueletos en la consulta para amedrentar a los pacientes. Ñe, ñe, sabemos cómo sois por dentro...

Recuerda siempre que la multitud que aplaude tu coronación es la misma que aplaudirá tu decapitación. A la gente le gustan los espectáculos.

Y lo bueno que tenía clavar una estaca en el corazón era que también funcionaba con los no vampiros.

Always move fast...you never know who’s catching up!

It makes me so noticeable that no one will suspect I'm trying not to be noticed, so they won't bother to notice me.

Brighten up the world like a little sunbeam.

What you had to do in this life was get past the pineapple. It was big and sharp and knobbly, but there might be peaches underneath

De pronto el mundo entero se había convertido en una especie de Boris: veloz, ansioso por morder e imposible de dirigir. La única forma de no acabar destrozado era seguir cabalgando.

Io credo nell’amore a prima vista, nel fato, nell’universo. Tutto quanto. Ma non nel modo che pensate voi. Non intendo il genere “le nostre anime erano separate e tu sei la mia altra metà per sempre”. Penso solo che siamo destinati a incontrare determinate persone. Penso che l’universo ce le metta sul cammino. Persino in un qualunque lunedì pomeriggio di luglio. Persino all’ufficio postale

Sei il ragazzo dell’ufficio postale? Mi sento superimbarazzato in questo momento, e non posso credere che sto facendo una cosa del genere, ma eccomi qua. Abbiamo parlato per pochi minuti all’ufficio postale sulla Lexington. Io ero il tizio con la cravatta con gli hot dog. Tu volevi spedire delle cose al tuo ex. Mi ha affascinato la tua risata. Vorrei averti chiesto il numero. Vuoi darmi una seconda possibilità, universo?

È strano pensare che sei giorni fa ho incontrato Arthur in un ufficio postale e l’universo ha steso entrambe le braccia per spingerci l’uno verso l’altro. Ciò nonostante, io non procedo mai a questa velocità. Io e Hudson eravamo amici da mesi prima che lui mi convincesse con il suo fascino a salire di livello. Ma Arthur? Non lo conosco neanche. Immagino siano così le relazioni. Cominci con niente e forse finisci con tutto

Look, Bob, what part of this don't you understand, eh? It's a matter of style, okay? A proper brawl doesn't just happen. You don't just pile in, not anymore. Now, Oyster Dave here--put your helmet back on, Dave--will be the enemy in front, and Basalt, who, as we know, don't need a helmet, he'll be the enemy coming up behind you. Okay, it's well past knuckles time, let's say Gravy there has done his thing with the Bench Swipe, there's a bit of knife play, we've done the whole Chandelier Swing number, blah blah blah, then Second Chair--that's you, Bob--you step smartly between their Number Five man and a Bottler, swing the chair back over your head, like this--sorry, Pointy--and then swing it right back onto Number Five, bang, crash, and there's a cushy six points in your pocket. If they're playing a dwarf at Number Five, then a chair won't even slow him down, but don't fret, hang on to the bits that stay in your hand, pause one moment as he comes at you, and then belt him across both ears. They hate that, as Stronginthearm here will tell you. Another three points. It's probably going to be freestyle after that but I want all of you, including Mucky Mick and Crispo, to try for a Double Andrew when it gets down to the fist-fighting again. Remember? You back into each other, turn around to give the other guy a thumping, cue moment of humorous recognition, then link arms, swing round and see to the other fellow's attacker, foot or fist, it's your choice. Fifteen points right there if you get it to flow just right. Oh, and remember we'll have an Igor standing by, so if your arm gets taken off do pick it up and hit the other bugger with it, it gets a laugh and twenty points. On that subject, do remember what I said about getting everything tattooed with your name, all right? Igors do their best, but you'll be on your feet much quicker if you make life easier for him and, what's more, it's your feet you'll be on. Okay, positions, everyone, let's run through it again...

Tomorrow his friends would gather at Josie's for coffee and doughnuts, and in his absence they would talk of [her] in the same way they had talked of that postal worker in the gorilla suit or the fellow who killed all those children. They would not do so maliciously, but because they had thought her curious and now found her death somehow threatening. After all, she had died here, in Hopewell––not in some other town in some other state. She had died here, where they lived, and she was someone they knew. Yes, she was odd, and it wasn't really any surprise that she had died of a heart attack blasting away at shadows with a shotgun, because [she] had done stranger things. But in the back of their minds was the conviction that she really wasn't so different than they were, and that if it could happen to her, it could happen to them. Truth was, you shared an uneasy sense of kinship with even the most unfortunate, disaffected souls; you felt you had known at least a few of them during your life. You had been children together, with children's hopes and dreams. The dark future that had claimed those few was never more than an arm's length away from everyone else. You knew that. You knew that a single misfortune could change your life forever, that you were vulnerable, and to protect yourself you wanted to know everything you could about why it had touched another and passed you by.



La macchina parte con il conto alla rovescia, da tre. La prima foto la improvvisiamo. Arthur avvicina la testa alla mia ed entrambi sorridiamo, supersemplice. Per la seconda foto Arthur tira fuori la lingua ed emette un “Aaaaaah” come se un dottore gli stesse esaminando la bocca. Io faccio un occhiolino esagerato. Per la terza foto Arthur si volta verso di me. A me batte forte il cuore perché sembra mi voglia baciare, ma a me ancora non viene. Lo so che è molto bello aver ritrovato il ragazzo che ho incontrato all’ufficio postale, ma per quanto lui sia affascinante, non posso costringermi a baciarlo prima di sentirmi pronto. Prima di desiderarlo. Ci fissiamo e quando scatta l’ultimo flash ci stiamo sorridendo. Usciamo dalla cabina e prendiamo una copia ciascuno da conservare. Stiamo davvero molto bene insieme

«Ehm, stai entrando?» chiede lui alla fine. Sollevo gli occhi sulla porta. «Sì.» E lo faccio. Lo seguo dentro l’ufficio postale. Non è neanche una decisione. O, se lo è, ha deciso il mio corpo. C’è qualcosa in lui. È questo strappo nel mio petto. È questa sensazione di doverlo conoscere, come se fosse inevitabile. Okay, sto per confessare una cosa che probabilmente vi farà inorridire. Probabilmente state già inorridendo. Ma vabbè, fatemela dire. Io credo nell’amore a prima vista, nel fato, nell’universo. Tutto quanto. Ma non nel modo che pensate voi. Non intendo il genere “le nostre anime erano separate e tu sei la mia altra metà per sempre”. Penso solo che siamo destinati a incontrare determinate persone. Penso che l’universo ce le metta sul cammino. Persino in un qualunque lunedì pomeriggio di luglio. Persino all’ufficio postale

«Ora vado» dice Arthur. «Una volta che avrò cominciato a camminare non potrò più voltarmi. Ma tu non dovresti restare qui a guardare, nel caso che io imbrogli. Corri dentro e basta, okay?» Fa un passo indietro. Io annuisco. «Ti amo, Ben.» «Te amo anch’io, Arthur.» Le nostre dita si sganciano ed ecco. Arthur in qualche modo trova la forza per voltarsi e io mi sento più vuoto a ogni suo passo rapido. Quando arriva alla fine dell’isolato si ferma. Così a lungo che mi aspetto di vederlo ruotare su se stesso di centottanta gradi e correre indietro per un altro bacio. Ma riprende a camminare. Meglio così. Salgo di corsa i gradini della scuola e il mio telefono vibra. È Arthur che mi manda la foto di me che lo bacio davanti all’ufficio postale. La foto scatena i ricordi dell’estate e non mi sento più vuoto. Mi sento come se inspirassi speranza. L’universo non ci avrebbe fatto incontrare solo per un’estate. Giusto?

I gemelli mi oltrepassano e vedo che hanno entrambi lo chignon: New York deve essere un pianeta a parte, giuro, perché nessuno fa una piega. Tranne uno. Un ragazzo sta venendo verso l’ufficio postale con una scatola di cartone in mano e si immobilizza, letteralmente, quando i gemelli gli passano accanto. Ha un’espressione così sconcertata che io scoppio a ridere. E poi lui mi guarda. E sorride. E cristo santo. Dico sul serio. Cristo di una madre santa. Il ragazzo più bello del mondo. Forse sono i capelli, o le lentiggini, o il colorito rosa delle guance. E questo detto da una persona che non ha mai guardato le guance di nessuno in vita sua. Ma le sue guance meritano di essere guardate. Tutto di lui merita di essere guardato. Capelli castano chiaro perfettamente arruffati. Jeans stretti, scarpe logore, maglietta grigia con le parole “Dream & Bean Coffee” appena visibili sopra la scatola. È più alto di me... vabbè, lo sono quasi tutti. Mi sta ancora guardando. Ma, venti punti a Grifondoro, riesco a sorridergli

You didn’t warn us about this, Readier,’ said Stowley resentfully. Gilt waved his hands. ‘We must speculate to accumulate!’ he said. ‘The Post Office? Trickery and sleight of hand. Oh, von Lipwig is an ideas man, but that’s all he is. He’s made a splash, but he’s not got the stamina for the long haul. Yet as it turns out he will do us a favour. Perhaps we have been . . . a little smug, a little lax, but we have learned our lesson! Spurred by the competition we are investing several hundred thousand dollars—’ ‘Several hundred?’ said Greenyham. Gilt waved him into silence, and continued: ‘—several hundred thousand dollars in a challenging, relevant and exciting systemic overhaul of our entire organization, focusing on our core competencies while maintaining full and listening co-operation with the communities we are proud to serve. We fully realize that our energetic attempts to mobilize the flawed infrastructure we inherited have been less than totally satisfactory, and hope and trust that our valued and loyal customers will bear with us in the coming months as we interact synergistically with change management in our striving for excellence. That is our mission.’ An awed silence followed.

«Non so che cosa mi aspetta dopo» dico. Le mie dita sono nervose. «Io ti implorerò sempre per un sequel» dice Arthur. «Manda avanti la storia.» «E se fosse meglio chiuderla finché ha successo?» «Come fai a saperlo se non le dai un’altra possibilità?» Sorrido. «Già, una replica.» Sono abbastanza sicuro che non stiamo più parlando del mio libro. Almeno, Arthur è molto meno sfacciato di una volta. A differenza dell’anno scorso, quando mi ha insistentemente fatto credere che sarebbe venuto a New York per passare il capodanno con me, così a mezzanotte avremmo guardato la palla cadere e se ci fosse capitato di baciarci per lui non sarebbe stato un problema. Non è successo, ma Arthur è ancora l’ultima persona che ho baciato. Una volta ho pensato che mi stesse venendo una cotta per un tizio al corso di scrittura creativa, ma non è durata molto. Ho soltanto bisogno di più tempo da solo, penso. Per credere davvero nel mio valore senza l’aiuto di altri. Il che non significa che non mi scopra a seguire con il dito il nome di Arthur sul magnete che ho comprato insieme a quello che ha lui, con il mio nome. O a fissare la foto di quando l’ho baciato davanti all’ufficio postale dove ci siamo incontrati. O a pensare costantemente al futuro e a chiedermi: “E se...?”. «Mai dire mai» dice Arthur. «Giusto?» Quanta speranza appesa a una parola. «Giusto» dico. «Non si sa mai che cosa ha in programma per noi l’universo.» Io non so che cosa abbiamo in programma noi per noi stessi. E se ci fosse una replica nel nostro futuro? E se finissimo di nuovo nella stessa città e riprendessimo da dove abbiamo lasciato? E se andassimo lontano quanto avevamo sperato e bum, lieto fine per noi? E se invece per noi fosse tutto qui? E se non ci baciassimo mai più? E se fossimo presenti l’uno per l’altro nei momenti importanti, ma non fossimo al centro di quei momenti? E se l’universo avesse sempre voluto che ci incontrassimo e restassimo per sempre l’uno nella vita dell’altro come migliori amici? E se riscrivessimo tutto quello che ci aspettiamo da un lieto fine? O... E se non avessimo ancora visto la versione migliore di noi