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My last quote from 2666. This spoken by a French writer who brings Benno von Archimboldi, the German novelist at the heart of the novel, to "a house for the vanished writers of Europe, a place of refuge" where Archimboldi hopes to live and write in peace. Which, of course, turns out to be an insane asylum.

Everything collapses in pain. All eloquence springs from pain.

This is one of those books I'll probably never get out of my head. There's nothing I could really recommend more, ever, and I'm already planning my re-read.