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You've just reminded me of my favourite last line ever, from William Peter Blatty's "Legion".
But in keeping with the thread subject here's the first paragraph.
"He thought of death in its infinite groanings, of Aztecs ripping out living hearts and of cancer and three-year-olds buried alive and he wondered whether God was alien and cruel, but then remembered Beethoven and the dappling of things and the lark and "Hurrah for Karamazov" and kindness. He stared at the sun coming up behind the Capitol, streaking the Potomac with orange light, and then down at the outrage, the horror at his feet. Something had gone wrong between man and his creator, and the evidence was here on this boathouse dock."
and the final line:
"Hurrah for Karamazov," Kinderman murmured.
which just crashes down own you like the first night in your bed after a long time away from home. If you haven't read it then trust me, the journey to that last line is exhausting and worthwhile. |
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