This day has been a psychic cesspool, making me all too receptive to notions such as these:
When I think it over, I must say that my education has in many ways done me great harm. This reproach falls on a number of people, namely my parents, some relatives, the occasional visitor to our house, various writers, one particular cook who drove me to school for a year, a heap of teachers (whom I must press close together in my recollection, otherwise some would escape me here and there, but since I have crowded them so close together, it all crumbles back apart piece by piece), a school inspector, slowly walking passersby; in short, this reproach winds its way like a dagger through society and no one, I repeat, unfortunately no one can be sure that the dagger’s point will not suddenly appear from before, from behind, or from the side.
From The Diaries of Franz Kafka a new addition to the emerging genre of literature blogging.
Via Infocult.
