The wish to portray my own inner life has shoved every-thing else into the background; everything else is stunted, and continues to be stunted." "Often," he adds at another time, "I am seized by a melancholy though quite tranquil amazement at my own lack own feeling...that simply by consequence of my fixation upon letters I am everywhere else uninterested and in consequence heartless." This calm melancholy perception is actually, however, a source of much disquiet, and the disquiet is religious in its nature.
-Homage, by Thomas Mann for The Castle, by Franz Kafka
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I'm scanning down the page unable to focus when his words come off it. I am rapturous then: