Kafka knew hours, days perhaps, in which he identified personal life itself with ineradicable existential guilt. To be alive, to engender further life, was to sin… It was, at some enigmatic deeps, to sin against oneself to the precise degree that survival entails lies, the failures of love, suffering, and the anguish which whispers pitilessly out of The great winds from under the earth.
- intro by George Steiner
— Jul 28, 2025 06:26AM
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