One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

Contains spoilers

"Bending, with a breaking heart, I touched the marble drapery with my lips, then crept back into the silent house."

"Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able,—to dress and entertain, and order things."

"The only hope now, I felt, was the possibility that we’d gone to such excess, with our gig, that nobody in a position to bring the hammer down on us could possibly believe it."

"I am trying to get at something

and I want to talk very plainly to you

so that we are both comforted by the honesty."

At this point I perceive, therefore, that hope cannot be eluded forever and that it can beset even those who wanted to be free of it.

HOLD UP!! HIS WRITING IS THIS FIRE???

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