From Kafka's Diaries


     Don't forget:
     Raabe, while dying, when his wife stroked his forehead: 'How pleasant.'
M. is right: fear means unhappiness but it does not follow from this that courage means happiness; . . .

What used to be a dividing-thread is now a wall, or a mountain range, or rather a grave.
Almost impossible to sleep; plagued by dreams, as if they were being scratched on me, on a stubborn material.


 

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