How many words in this book,
They are meant for remembrance. As though words could carry memories, For words are clumsy mountaineers and clumsy miners. Not for them to bring down treasures from the mountains' peak, or up from the mountains' bowels.
But there is a living mindfulness that has passed gently, like a stroking hand, over everything memorable. And when the flame shoots up out of these ashes, hot and glowing, strong and mighty, and you stare into it as though spellbound by its magic then--
But no one can write himself into this kind of mindfulness with unskillful hand and crude pen; one can only write, undemanding pages as these. I did so on September 4, 1900.
Franz Kafka
"Entry in Album"
Yesterday, going through his book-filled attic in his manic state of mind the Hog came across of Kafka's "Letters to Friends." When the Hog is on this journey it's important to "pay attention" to everything that falls into his lap so, he quoted this morning from the book's first entry and it fits.
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