Kafka's illnesses are more existential than physical; they are like Kierkegaard's sickness unto death.

If he prefers the bar he can exchange views with a Major de Wildman of Lord knew whose army, who calls himself King Farouk's equerry and claims to have a private telephone link to Cairo so that he can report the winning numbers and take royal orders inspired by soothsayers on how to dissipate the wealth of Egypt.

The slowness of this stupid poke tortures me to death.

Till at the last, recovering his voice, Supping the tears that all his breast berained, …