People who walk across dark bridges, past saints, with dim, small lights. Clouds which move across gray skies past churches with towers darkened in the dusk. One who leans against granite railing gazing into the evening waters, His hands resting on old stones.
Franz KafkaOnly our concept of time makes it possible for us to speak of the Day of Judgment by that name in reality it is a summary court in perpetual session.
Franz Kafka