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367 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1997
"But this we share, this talent for suffering, yes, and for mourning, yes, and the passion for the majesty, the utter mystery of music."
"It's so easy to wish for death when nothing's wrong with you! It's so easy to fall in love with death, and I've been all my life, and seen its most faithful worshippers crumble in the end, screaming just to live, as if all the dark veils and the lilies and the smell of candles, and grandiose promises of the grave, meant nothing."
"In all my wanderings amongst the dead, I'd talked to memories and relics and fed their answers to them as if they were dolls I held propped in my hand."
"You come like something I would conjure. A violinist, the very thing I once wanted with all my heart to be, perhaps the only thing I ever tried with all my heart to be. You come. But you're not my creation. You're from somewhere else and you are hungry and needy and demanding. You're furious that you can't drive me mad, yet drawn to the very complexity that defeats you."