"When it was becoming unbearable - once toward evening in November and the sight of the lit-up street, then turning to the interior of the room found a new goal in the depths of the looking glass and screamed aloud, to hear only my own scream which met no answer nor anything that could draw it, force away, so that it rose up without check and could not stop even when it ceased being audible, the door in the wall opened toward me, how swiftly, because swiftness was needed and even the cart horses down below on the paving stones were rising in the air like horses driven wild in a battle, their throats bare to the enemy" - Franz Kafka, Unhappiness.
a blog bade on resarch funded by the Irish Research Council
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
"Now we say 'plants' and sound fills the air. But in the future epoch man will say 'plants' and this will cause their growth." - Rudolph Steiner
"When it was becoming unbearable - once toward evening in November and the sight of the lit-up street, then turning to the interior of the room found a new goal in the depths of the looking glass and screamed aloud, to hear only my own scream which met no answer nor anything that could draw it, force away, so that it rose up without check and could not stop even when it ceased being audible, the door in the wall opened toward me, how swiftly, because swiftness was needed and even the cart horses down below on the paving stones were rising in the air like horses driven wild in a battle, their throats bare to the enemy" - Franz Kafka, Unhappiness.
"When it was becoming unbearable - once toward evening in November and the sight of the lit-up street, then turning to the interior of the room found a new goal in the depths of the looking glass and screamed aloud, to hear only my own scream which met no answer nor anything that could draw it, force away, so that it rose up without check and could not stop even when it ceased being audible, the door in the wall opened toward me, how swiftly, because swiftness was needed and even the cart horses down below on the paving stones were rising in the air like horses driven wild in a battle, their throats bare to the enemy" - Franz Kafka, Unhappiness.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment