Or, possibly, the literature of any nation. Or, possibly even, any possible literature of any possible nation:
Убил отца не ты.
“It wasn’t you who killed father.”
Years & years ago, I “taught” The Brothers Karamazov at the University of Chicago, and was quite taken with it.
Just now, I’ve been revisiting the book, in an audiobook performance of the Magarshack translation, as I drive into and back from work. The line I’ve just quoted, from Book 11, Chapter 5, is, in context, so brilliant, so devastating, and so completely unexpected…I’m lucky I didn’t crash my car.