Moby Dick: The Blacksmith

 No murmur, no impatience, no petulance did come from him. Silent, slow, and solemn; bowing over still further his chronically broken back, he toiled away, as if toil were life itself, and the heavy beating of his hammer the heavy beating of his heart. And so it was. — Most miserable!

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Kafka and Rilke

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Rilke's "Requiem for a Friend"

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The Parlograph

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