I just finished a rather astonishing book — Galore by Michael Crummey — and this passage grabbed me:
—You love the music so much, she said, wiping away snot with her sleeve. —You love it and you think it must love you back somehow, she said.
—But the music could care less if you live or die, Esther said. She laughed at herself suddenly. —You don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, do you.
It’s a mad work: brutal, dark, funny and not to be missed.