"Kafka, Franz - Diaries 1914" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kafka Franz)

longing for suicide, then my sister returned from the parents' gathering unable to report the least thing. In bed until ten, sleepless, sorrow after sorrow. No letter, not
here, not in the office, mailed a letter to Bl. at the Franz-Josef station, saw G. in the afternoon, walked along the Moldau, read aloud at his house; his queer mother who
ate sandwiches and played solitaire; walked around alone for two hours; decided to leave Berlin Friday, met Kohl, at home with my brothers-in-law and sisters, then the
discussion of his engagement at Weltsch's (J. K.'s putting out the candles), then at home attempted by my silence to elicit aid and sympathy from my mother; now my
sister tells me about her meeting, the clock strikes a quarter to twelve.


At Weltsch's, in order to comfort his mother who was upset, I said: "I too am losing Felix by this marriage. A friend who is married is none." Felix said nothing,
naturally couldn't say anything, but he didn't even want to.


The notebook begins with F., who on 2 May 1913 made me feel uncertain; this same beginning can serve as conclusion too, if in place of "uncertain" I use a worse
word.



16 February. Wasted day. My only joy was the hope that last night has given me of sleeping better.


I was going home in my usual fashion in the evening after work, when, as though I had been watched for, they excitedly waved to me from all three windows of the
Genzmer house to come up.



22 February. In spite of my drowsy head, whose upper left side is near aching with restlessness, perhaps I am still able quietly to build up some greater whole wherein I
might forget everything and be conscious only of the good in one.


Director at his table. Servant brings in a card.

DIRECTOR: Witte again, this is a nuisance, the man is a nuisance.



23 February. I am on my way. Letter from Musil. Pleases me and depresses me, for I have nothing.


A young man on a beautiful horse rides out of the gate of a villa.



8 March. A prince can wed the Sleeping Beauty, or someone even harder to win too, but the Sleeping Beauty can be no prince.


It happened that when Grandmother died only the nurse was with her. She said that just before Grandmother died she lifted herself up a little from the pillow so that she
seemed to be looking for someone, and then peacefully lay back again and died.


There is no doubt that I am hemmed in all around, though by something that has certainly not yet fixed itself in my flesh, that I occasionally feel slackening, and that
could be burst asunder. There are two remedies, marriage or Berlin; the second is surer, the first more immediately attractive. I dived down and soon everything felt