Transcript Franz Kafka The Trial - Marani Developments

Franz Kafka
The Trial
Title: The Trial
Author: Franz Kafka
Format: Kindle Edition
Language: English
Pages: 256
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Description
One of the great works of the twentieth century, Kafka's The Trial has been read as a study of
political power, a pessimistic religious parable, or a crime novel where the accused man is
himself the problem. In it, a man wakes up one morning to find himself under arrest for an
offence which is never explained. Faced with this ambiguous but threatening situation, Josef K.
gradually succumbs to its psychological pressure. One of the iconic figures of modern world
literature, Kafka writes about universal problems of guilt, responsibility, and freedom. He offers
no solutions, but provokes his readers to arrive at meanings of their own. Mike Mitchell's
translation captures Kafka's distinctive style. Based on the best available German text, it
includes not only the main text but the chapters Kafka left incomplete. In his Introduction,
Ritchie Robertson considers the many puzzles in the novel and the different interpretations to
which the novel has been subjected. The book also includes a Biographical Preface, an up-todate bibliography, and a chronology of Kafka's life.
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Insightful reviews
Chiara Pagliochini: « Lei è innocente? », chiese. « Sì », disse K. Fu addirittura con gioia che
diede risposta a questa domanda, soprattutto perché quella risposta era diretta a un privato, e
non comportava quindi nessuna responsabilità. Nessuno gli aveva ancora rivolto una domanda
così esplicita. Per assaporare questa gioia, aggiunse: « Sono del tutto innocente ».
Alcuni anni fa, quando ero ancora al liceo, mi capitò di assistere a una rappresentazione
teatrale di questo stesso testo. Anche allora – e, direi, soprattutto allora – ne uscii frastornata e
quasi irritata, incapace di definire compiutamente il genere di spettacolo a cui avevo assistito,
incapace di definire le sensazioni che mi aveva trasmesso. Provo la stessa frustrazione in
momenti molto più comuni, tutti i giorni: quando non riesco a ricordare la zona oscura di un
sogno, per esempio, o quando aspetto da un interlocutore una risposta che non arriva. È la
frustrazione generata dall’incompletezza, dal mistero. Sono sempre vissuta male
nell’incertezza. Pure l’incertezza è davvero lo stato più comune della vita, uno stato a cui
bisogna far l’abitudine se non si vuole impazzire, uno stato che dobbiamo assimilare e con cui
dobbiamo convivere tutti i giorni.
Che “Il Processo” si presti a una molteplicità di interpretazioni, che operi su svariati livelli di
lettura, che sia impossibile – o, quantomeno, piuttosto presuntuoso – dare una enumerazione e
una spiegazione di ciascun livello, questo non sono io a dirlo. Ciascun lettore, posto davanti a
un’opera del genere, si renderà conto della sua fluidità, del liquefarsi della materia a destra e a
sinistra, secondo sfuggenti derive di pensiero. Come lo sguardo di persone diverse si appunta
su elementi diversi dello stesso paesaggio (a seconda del gusto dello spettatore, della
traiettoria del suo sguardo, del caso), allo stesso modo un libro come “Il Processo” può essere
dissezionato in più parti di paesaggio, che solo una moltitudine di spettatori – e, forse, neanche
quella – saprebbe rimettere insieme.
Nel capitolo ambientato in Duomo, Kafka sembra dare un indizio di questa stessa possibilità –
o, piuttosto, impossibilità – di lettura. Il protagonista, Josef K., si avvicina a un quadro posto in
una nicchia e lo illumina con la sua lampada portatile. La prima figura a essere illuminata è
quella di un Cavaliere, il cui sguardo è rivolto verso altre figure dello stesso dipinto. A un
secondo movimento della lampada, il quadro si chiarisce come una Deposizione, ma molte
figure restano ancora nascoste negli angoli, molti dettagli non sono colti. Solo un’illuminazione
non parziale, solo un gruppo di spettatori più attenti e numerosi, potrebbe forse dare una lettura
completa ed esauriente del dipinto. Lo stesso, io credo, vale per il romanzo in cui il dipinto è
contenuto.
Tutto questo lo scrivo a parziale giustificazione del fatto che in questa recensione non
appariranno le espressioni “macchina burocratica”, “corte”, “difesa”, “apparati giudiziari”.
Dell’aspetto tecnico, giudiziario/burocratico del romanzo io ne capisco quanto di una creatura
che mi stia aperta davanti, sezionata, ma di cui non riesco neanche a nominare neanche gli
organi. Per questo, per non cadere in qualche affermazione scontata, al di là della mia portata,
me ne chiamo fuori.
Quello che più mi intriga della vicenda è la questione della colpa e della colpevolezzadi Josef
K. So, per averlo già trovato nelle “Lettere a Milena”, che nella personalità di Kafka si annida il
sentimento di una colpa, una colpa astratta, quasi razziale, che si esprime spesso nelle forme
dell’auto-denigrazione. Si veda per esempio il passaggio: « Milena, non si tratta di questo, tu
non sei per me una signora, sei una fanciulla, non ho mai visto nessuna che fosse tanto
fanciulla, non oserò porgerti la mano, fanciulla, la mano sudicia, convulsa, unghiuta, incerta e
tremula, cocente e fredda ».
Al contrario, non si ritrovano in K. (ma quanto è significativa l’iniziale del cognome?) la
coscienza di una colpa e il sentimento di una lordura. Troviamo però una colpa “reale”, una
colpa ancora più astratta di quella di Kafka, in quanto mai nominata, ma sanzionata
. Come si
può condannare un uomo non per qualcosa che non ha commesso, ma per una colpa che non
si conosce? Josef K. si dichiara innocente, ma non conosce la propria colpa. Di che cosa
dunque si dichiara innocente? In cosa consistono la sua colpevolezza e la sua innocenza?
Leggendo il romanzo, ho avuto l’impressione che la domanda si facesse man mano più
ambigua. Inizialmente il lettore è persuaso dell’innocenza di K., anche se questa innocenza è
priva di un riferimento. Ne è convinto dalla semplice assurdità del caso e dei procedimenti presi
contro l’imputato. Eppure, col dispiegarsi del processo, la spontanea simpatia per il caso di K.
si perde e K. stesso appare mano a mano più ambiguo. Perché non cerca di scoprire la propria
colpa? Perché accetta passivamente il corso degli avvenimenti – tentando di porre loro un freno
solo ricorrendo alla corruzione? Perché, nelle pagine finali, si fa trascinare di peso, dichiarando
così palesemente la propria inerzia?
Queste domande fanno pendere la bilancia a sfavore di K. La sua inerzia, il suo egocentrismo,
la sua mancanza di generosità, il suo opportunismo, le sue tendenze a corrompere e farsi
corrompere, il rapporto certamente poco limpido con donne altrettanto torbide (di cui una è la
fotocopia dell’altra, apparizioni notturne, fantasmi di carne sola) non gli guadagnano la simpatia
della corte dei lettori. Sì, lo si trova buffo, grottesco a tratti, ma non lo si giudicherebbe un uomo
integro. È questa la colpa di K.? La sua natura? È questa la colpa di Kafka? Questa, la colpa
che ogni individuo ha di fronte a se stesso per essere la persona meschina che è e di cui non si
giudica mai davvero innocente, se non in improvvisi impeti di amor proprio?
E chi sanziona la colpa? Da chi è composto il tribunale? Di nuovo siamo noi, nei momenti in cui
confessiamo in segreto la nostra meschinità, nei momenti in cui le convenzioni sociali entrano a
giudicare i nostri comportamenti. È un processo di cui siamo accusati e accusatori, un processo
che si svolge nel tribunale della nostra psiche, lo stesso processo di pulsione, rimozione,
spostamento, condensazione che avviene ogni notte nei nostri sogni? Ed è per questo che “Il
Processo” appare così onirico, così interamente campato per aria, come volti senza volto di un
sogno, come storie che si avvitano su se stesse, scale, sovrapposizioni, atmosfere nebulose?
Ho letto nel “Processo” quello che mi piaceva trovarci, così come la lampada di K. illumina solo
una porzione del dipinto e ne dà prima una lettura errata. Questo è piaciuto leggere a me. Altri
leggeranno altro. Forse avranno ragione loro. Forse avremo ragione tutti. Forse nessuno di noi
avrà ragione.
Daniel: This may be the strangest book I have ever read. What can I say - it was Kafkaesque! I
never knew what the trial was about, but I always thought it was about, well, a trial. It turns out and I'm not spoiling it for you, because this is clear in the beginning - that Josef K. doesn't know
what the trial is about either.
Sometimes it's hard in German for me to be sure I have the tone right, but much of this book is
dream/nightmare-like, not unlike Die Verwandlung. I can't say that I got much out of the book
other than a deeper sense of angst than I might have imagined. There is what must be a
famous scene near the very end, when K. is supposed to show an Italian businessman around
the cathedral. The man doesn't show, and no one but some spooky cathedral types are present.
It's dark and the world outside is closed off. As K. is about to leave, a priest has ascended to a
pulpit and just as K is about to leave he hears, "Josef K." called out from the pulpit. He knows in
that moment that he could go out the door and be free but he just cannot, somehow, manage to
keep going; he stops and eventually turns. At some point, he sees some hope in the preacher,
as he thinks there must be some way out of this trial, some way around the whole thing, a
rejection, as it were, of the judgment. But he can't find it. The scene involves a story about a
gatekeeper of the Law and a man who wants inside the Law - I can't figure that out, either,
except that there are two commands given about the entry to the man from the gatekeeper: (1)
you can't come in now and at the end (2) it was always meant for you. At the end of the priest's
exegesis and counseling he says to K, " Das Gericht will nichts von Dir. Es nimmt Dich auf
wenn Du kommst and es entlaesst Dich wenn Du gehst." What in the world are we to make of
that? Do we really condemn ourselves so freely?
At least one other thing is remarkable: the women are all a bit loose, throwing themselves at the
representatives of the law and at K. without much hesitation. Alas, I cannot see what this has to
do with the theme of existential despair, other than the fact that K. will find no solace in the
company of women.
I guess this book has to be read, as it's a classic, but be forewarned that it is one weird read.
Aubrey: Has this ever happened to you? You're chugging your way through a book at a decent
pace, it's down to the last legs, you've decided on the good ol' four star rating, it's true that it had
some really good parts but ultimately you can't say that it was particularly amazing. And all of
the sudden the last part slams into your face, you're knocked sprawling on your ass by the
weight of the words spiraling around your head in a merry go round of pure literary power, and
you swear the book is whispering 'You know nothing, you snot nosed brat' through its pages of
magnificence as the author leaves you far behind.
If you haven't, read this book. If you have, and crave more of the same, see the previous.
Now, what did the Goodreads summary call this book again? 'A terrifying, psychological trip'.
Yes, I suppose you could say that. I mean, it is terrifying, it is psychological, and it makes for
one hell of a ride. But, you see, those three words strung together convey the sense of
otherworldliness, some diabolical satire that's made a nightmare of a reality that's usually pretty
good about behaving itself. The problem with that is the fact that this story adheres more closely
to reality than most books dare to dream of doing. There's no phantasmagorical twisting of the
entire face of reality. This is reality. And it needs no aid in inspiring the most abject of terror.
Arrests of innocents. Hazy procedures. Courts obscured by other courts. Files disappearing into
the dark.
"I see," said K., nodding, "these books are probably law books, and it is an essential
part of the justice dispensed here that you should be condemned not only in innocence
but also in ignorance." "That must be it," said the woman, who had not quite understood
him.
Judgment determined by accusation rather than by trial.
"We are only being punished because you accused us; if you hadn't, nothing would have
happened, not even if they had discovered what we did. Do you call that justice?
Guilty until proven less guilty. Less guilty via the right connections rather than the right
evidence. Innocence with an expiration date. Complaints about any of the previous injustices
accelerating the inevitable, and for what? The hope that the future might be better? What
difference will that make to you, the individual life currently at stake? The invisible pendulum will
still be suspended over the more invisible pit, and your every forthright movement will still be
swallowed in the obscurity of the Law, and nothing will result but a building sense of anxiety and
despair.
Look at the Law of the past and more importantly the Law of the present, and tell me none of
this applies, in the days where banks are 'too big' to be brought to justice and everything from
the individual to the government is held hostage from a better tomorrow by the inane struggles
of today.
"No," said the priest, "it is not necessary to accept everything as true, one must only
accept it as necessary."
History repeats itself.
History repeats itself.
History fucking repeats itself.
Get it? Got it? Good.
Doing something about it is another matter entirely.
Kinga: Kafka's Trial is a kind of books which are consistently found in cultural sphere and
referenced advert nauseum. regardless of by no means having learn Kafka earlier than i'm fairly
convinced I used the note 'Kafkaesque' on many events and maintained a semi-eloquent dialog
approximately 'The Trial'.I could've most likely kept away from ever examining it yet lately I
resolved to take my literary objectives heavily and because books appear to be the single factor
during this international i actually deal with i would in addition take it to a different level.'The
Trial' doesn't have any plot to talk of and personality improvement is non-existent. There are
usually not truly any characters that take any human shape. there's no clash or solution and the
one epiphany is the single chances are you'll or would possibly not have on the finish of it. fact
be told, 'The Trial' is not anything yet an allegory.An allegory of what's as much as you to
decide. i believe I interpret it at the such a lot common point and notice The Trial as an emblem
of human existence. we do not understand why we're here, the way it goes to finish or even
what the foundations of the sport are. Yet, we take this difficult trip attempting to make feel of it,
comforted by way of little meaningless bogus victories that idiot us into believing a few
development has been made. We in the past learnt that the 'actual acquittal' is inconceivable yet
we refuse to offer up. this can be how I see it. However, many literary critics and different
shrewdpermanent humans see it in a different way and that's their prerogative.There is, for
example, a rather attention-grabbing idea that 'The Trial' used to be born as an inmediate
results of the break-up of Kafka's engagement to Felice Bauer. Felice Bauer was, one may
possibly say, an simple woman. She used to be Kafka's muse and his anchor within the reality.
Kafka wanted her to write down and to stick sane. What Felice obtained out of the affair is
doubtful as her letters did not survive. No doubt, it should have been problematical as Kafka's
notion of affection was once certainly now not a fit one. Their dating consituted more often than
not of letters and low conferences which made Kafka the happiest simply when they have been
over. He did ultimately suggest to Felice yet emphasised he will be a slightly garbage husband
as he was once easily no longer minimize out for family members life. And so it went on. If
someone felt like they have been on an endless, incomprehensible trial, it was, in my opinion,
Felice. But, of course, Franz keeps it was once him - simply because ultimately Felice's
associates and relations made up our minds to place an finish to it, known as Kafka in,
compelled him to knock it off and go away the bad woman alone. That meeting/interrogation
was once his 'trial'.Now, i do not are looking to entertain this concept simply because whether it
is true, i'd need to lessen the ranking for 'Trial' to a few 2-3 stars and placed it on my 'brats' shelf
i've got for selfish, woe-is-me contributors appearing like brats. I like to keep on with the humanexistence allegory which i locate really relocating in its Weltschmertz way.If you have an interest
in extra interpreting at the subject, payment John Banville's article approximately Kafka's Trial
and his affair with Fraulein Bauer here:http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/...You may also
locate fictionalised (by Francine Prose) letter from Felice Bauer to Kafka during this number of
invented love letters : 4 Letter Word: Invented Correspondence from the sting of recent
Romance. The letter is written through Felice lengthy after Kafka's loss of life and primarily
asserts that Kafka was once a dick.
Manny: The tortured bureaucratic international defined within the Trial consistently moves me as
startlingly modern. I wonderedHow The Trial may need began if Kafka were an educational
writing in 2010K's most modern convention paper were rejected, and now he sat in entrance of
his computer and browse during the referees' comments. one in every of them, obviously now
not a local speaker of English, had despatched a web page of well-meaning advice, even
though okay was once uncertain no matter if he understood his recommendations. the second
one referee had merely written 3 lines, in a dismissive tone that damage K's feelings. okay had
an appointment together with his thesis consultant later that day, and questioned even if it's
going to look extra positive to rewrite the paper for submission to a different conference, or to
assert that he used to be drawing a line in order that he might be aware of his dissertation. He
was once attempting to come to a decision among those classes of action, neither of which
significantly appealed to him, while his officemate arrived. Fräulein Müller, a pale, slightly-built,
earnest woman with wispy brown hair, used to be writing a very uninteresting dissertation at the
discourse semantics of cellphone sex; ok had by no means dared ask her why she had selected
this topic, which appeared singularly ill-adapted to her basic demeanour. Today, she used to be
additionally in a nasty mood. She sat down and opened her personal machine with no
announcing a word, and typed industriously. After approximately twenty minutes, she regarded
up and sighed. "Problems?" requested K.Fräulein Müller sighed again. Then, in an uninflected
monotone, she learn a crude and unimaginatively pornographic passage, to which ok listened
attentively. He was, as usual, embarrassed to find that he had develop into sexually aroused;
yet Fräulein Müller by no means as soon as allowed her eyes to stray from her screen, and
okay was once really convinced that his temporary pleasure had handed unnoticed. She
concluded, and opened a spreadsheet."Do you think that she is de facto touching herself here,
or that she is in simple terms announcing that she might accomplish that in her fantasy?" she
requested tiredly.K thought of the matter. "I imagine it is only within the fantasy," he stated after
a while. "But i am not sure. might be 60%."Fräulein Müller crammed in bins in her
spreadsheet."Now, feel that she had acknowledged `will' rather than `must' within the final
sentence. may your judgement nonetheless be the same?"K requested her to learn the
sentence again. "I could say that made it extra likely," he said, after extra cautious thought.
"80%. i am certainly no longer certain."Fräulein Müller crammed in extra boxes, and tested the
recent figures that seemed on the backside of the sheet. "Not statistically significant," she
acknowledged in a dejected tone. "I be aware of I won't preserve checking the entire time, yet i
cannot aid it. i want extra data."K had a number of occasions been on the brink of asking
Fräulein Müller the place her examples got here from, yet used to be afraid that this could seem
intrusive; he knew nearly not anything approximately her inner most life. He unexpectedly
realised that he used to be intended to be seeing his consultant in 1 / 4 of an hour. Apologising
awkwardly, he wear his coat and left. The stroll around the campus was, however, shorter than
he had remembered, and he arrived in sturdy time. Professor Holz seemed stunned to work out
him, and ok reminded him they'd agreed to meet.K's consultant used to be thickset and fully
bald, regardless of simply being in his mid-forties. He had a moment place at one other
university, and used to be hardly ever to be present in his office; generally ok might were happy
to have cornered him and be capable of ask for advice, yet this present day he couldn't consider
something to say. He waited for Professor Holz to take the initiative. K's consultant appeared
both at a loss. He took off his rimless glasses, and polished them rigorously earlier than
speaking."So, K," he began, typing as he did so. "I comprehend your paper used to be
rejected."K proven that this was once certainly true."Well," endured Professor Holz, "I imagine
we either agree concerning the nature of the problem."K was once in truth not sure what the
professor was once referring to; he knew although that he had reservations in regards to the
learn course okay had chosen, and assumed that this used to be a veiled allusion to the
objections he had raised at their final meeting. He cleared his throat in a manner which may be
interpreted as assent."I understand, however," stated Holz, "that your collaboration with Fräulein
Müller has been extra successful."K checked out his consultant carefully, attempting to wager
even if he used to be being ironic, yet was once not able to tell. He agreed hesitantly,
attempting to sound as noncommital as he might in case it was once a trap. however the
professor without warning checked out his watch and rose, exclaiming that he had forgotten one
other meeting. He smiled apologetically to ok as he escorted him from the room, and locked the
door."I could relish a growth record sooner than the top of the week," he said, as they stood in
entrance of the elevator. "You have heard, of course, that the recent investment cuts oblige us
to reexamine our priorities."This sounded vaguely normal to K, who had although assumed that
he used to be none of the humans affected."It's quite often a formality," stated the professor.
"None the less, i want you to take it heavily and do a radical job. it truly is rather very important
that you simply describe your momentary objectives."There have been numerous questions that
ok urgently wanted to ask, yet at that second the elevator arrived. The professor disappeared
into it, announcing anything that okay was once not able to catch. He took the steps all the way
down to road level, and walked slowly again to his office. Fräulein Müller now appeared even
more animated, and instructed to okay that they devour lunch jointly on the Italian eating place
they either liked."I'm sorry i used to be like that earlier," she stated as they entire their spaghetti.
"It's this terrible report. i am so pleased i have eventually became it in. i assume you probably
did yours days ago."K waved his hand in a gesture of obscure assent, even though he was
once now beginning to suppose quite concerned."Oh good!" stated Fräulein Müller, and smiled
at him in a fashion that, for a moment, virtually made her glance attractive. "Then possibly i will
be able to ask you to provide me a few extra linguistic judgements? i believe the recent batch of
news is healthier than usual."K may well reflect on no method to decline this offer; so, for the
remainder of the afternoon, he listened to Fräulein Müller and patiently spoke back her
questions. round four pm, he obtained an electronic mail reminding him that the growth
document was once due via the tip of the subsequent day. He tried to consider it whereas
concurrently hearing Fräulein Müller, yet this proved to be impossible. Twice, she interrupted
him with a questioned air, and mentioned inconsistencies in his answers. ok used to be
compelled to provide her his complete attention. whilst it was once time to leave, he had
nonetheless no longer began the report. He attempted to muster his rules as he walked home,
and had virtually reached his condominium whilst he realised that he had forgotten his machine
on the office.
Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly: examine Joseph K., a financial institution officer residing in a
rustic with a constitution. He wakes up at some point with unusual males in his condo telling him
he is less than arrest. Why or for what offense, nobody knows. The arresting officials
themselves have no idea and cannot inform him. no matter if he is less than arrest, however,
not anyone selections him up or locks him in jail. He can nonetheless visit his office, work,
practice his conventional day-by-day chores, and do no matter what he desires to do as he
awaits his trial. yet he's understandably fearful and worried. He is, after all, charged with an
unknown yet very grave offense. He has a felony case. he's an accused. he's below arrest.For
this challenge he consults so many. He will get a lawyer. His uncle involves his aid. He talks
together with his lawyer's different client--also charged and below arrest like him. He consults
different people, a painter (who is related to understand the "Court"), a few women, a priest, etc.
approximately his case. yet nobody can inform him what the cost is and what his sentence will
be. The "Examining Magistrate," the "Judges," the "Court," the proceedings/ trial, or even the
"Law" itself--they all appear to be unsolvable enigmas.Now, examine yourself. You have been
born or made to exist with out your consent. You live, you do no matter what involves your brain
worthy doing, you marry or remain single, perhaps you may have married already and are
elevating a family, you can be residing a lifetime of repute or anonymity, accumulating riches or
simply getting by, satisfied or sad. however the whys and wherefores of all these, why you are
right here within the first place, why you are doing no matter what it truly is you are doing, when
you have a objective or used to be simply an accident, in case you will outlive your actual death,
see God or see darkness, witness corrective justice for the entire wrongs you might have
witnessed or heard about--all those you don't know and not will know. occasionally you would
think, with most of these uncertainties and frightful unknowns it should were higher that you
simply didn't exist at all. yet you had no choice. you are condemned to this lifestyles and have
been charged. you cannot "not exist" and escape. you're lower than arrest.So you search help.
you will attempt religion, universal sense, reason, examine the affairs of men, glance again in
history, see what the dwelling and useless prophets and philosophers need to say, pray to God
and his saints, ask Oprah, google your questions, yet these types of supply no certitude. Then,
you'll nonetheless die, and also you could die bewildered and afraid and, just like the demise of
Joseph K. himself during this novel, your loss of life should be no various from that of a
dog--"...Then one in every of them opened his frock coat and out of a sheath that hung from a
belt girt around his waistcoat drew a long, thin, double-edged butcher's knife, held it up, and
demonstrated the slicing edges within the moonlight. once again the odious courtesies began,
the 1st passed the knife throughout K. to the second, who passed it throughout K. again back to
the first. K. now perceived essentially that he used to be alleged to grab the knife himself,
because it traveled from hand handy above him, and plunge it into his personal breast. yet he
didn't do so, he only grew to become his head, which was once nonetheless unfastened to
move, and gazed round him. He couldn't thoroughly upward thrust to the occasion, he couldn't
relieve the officers of all their tasks; the accountability for this final failure of his lay with him who
had now not left him the remnant of energy valuable for the deed. His look fell at the best tale of
the home adjacent the quarry. With a flicker as of a gentle going up, the casements of a window
there without notice flew open; a human figure, faint and insubstantial at that distance and that
height, leaned by surprise a long way ahead and stretched either fingers nonetheless farther.
Who was once it? A friend? a great man? anyone who sympathized? anyone who desired to
help? used to be it one individual only? Or used to be it mankind? used to be aid at hand? have
been there arguments in his prefer that were overlooked? in fact there needs to be. good
judgment is without doubt unshakable, bit it can't face up to a guy who desires to pass on living.
the place was once the pass judgement on whom he had by no means seen? the place was
once the excessive Court, to which he had by no means penetrated? He raised his fingers and
unfolded all his fingers."But the arms of 1 of the companions have been already at K.'s throat,
whereas the opposite thrust the knife deep into his middle and grew to become it there twice.
With failing eyes K. may possibly nonetheless see the 2 of them instantly ahead of him, cheek
leaning opposed to cheek, looking at the ultimate act. 'Like a dog!' he said; it used to be as
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