Kafka’s choice of nothing as one’s place, ..the reduction of his existence to the minimum where nothing but the place takes place,..is the move..from death to sublimation

Isn't it evident in my very appearance that I am completely occupied with a serious matter?

he attended a conférence in the Rudolfinum on the subject of La Légende de Napoléon, at which one Richepin, a sturdy man of fifty with a fine figure, his hair arranged in stiff whorls in the Daudet style and at the same time lying close to his scalp, said among other things that in the past Napoleon’s tomb used to be opened once a year so that old soldiers filing past could set eyes on their embalmed Emperor. But later the custom of the annual opening of the tomb was discontinued, because his face was becoming rather green and bloated. Richepin himself as a child, however, says Kafka, had seen the dead Emperor in the arms of his great-uncle, who had served in Africa and for whom the commandant had the tomb specially opened. Moreover, Kafka’s diary entry continues, the conférence concluded with the speaker swearing that even in a thousand years’ time every mote of the dust of his own corpse, should it have consciousness, would still be ready to follow the call of Napoleon.

In the literary field ..I have, to be sure, experienced states ..which ..correspond ..to the clairvoyant states described by you, Herr Doktor, in which I completely dwelt in every idea, but also filled every idea, and in which I not only felt myself at my boundary, but at the boundary of the human in general. Only the calm of enthusiasm, which is probably characteristic of the clairvoyant, was still lacking in those states, even if not completely. I conclude this from the fact that I did not write the best of my works in those states.

you cannot look around because he keeps trying to hold you with his glance. But if for a moment he does not, then you must watch for the return of his glance.

I was lying in bed with a slight cold and my governess read me The Kreutzer Sonata, which enabled her to enjoy my agitation

I slept part of the afternoon away. While I was awake I lay on the sofa, thought about several love experiences of my youth, lingered in a pique over a neglected opportunity

I won't give up the diary again. I must hold on here, it is the only place I can.