"What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a res..." — Hermann Hesse

What constitutes a real, live human being is more of a mystery than ever these days, and men each one of whom is a valuable, unique experiment on the part of nature are shot down wholesale.

For me, however, that beloved, glowing little word happiness has become associated with everything I have felt since childhood upon hearing the sound of the word itself.

It is not Kafka's fault that his wonderful writings have lately turned into a fad, and are read by people who have neither the ability nor the desire to absorb literature.

But your questions, which are unanswerable without exception, all spring from the same erroneous thinking.