“Anyone who dedicated himself to literature had not renounced the world; the world had simply evicted him, or never admitted him as a tenant. Nothing serious, then; in the end, a poet was someone for whom the world didn’t even exist, because, for him, there was only the radiance of the eternal outside.” – Enrique Vila-Matas, The Illogic of Kassel (trans. Anne McLean & Anna Milsom)

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