“I see, these books are probably law books, and it is an essential part of the justice dispensed here that you should be condemned not only in innocence but also in ignorance.”

“I believe that we should only read those books that bite and sting us. If a book does not rouse us with a blow then why read it?”

“I think we ought to read only books that bite and sting us. If the book we are reading doesn't shake us awake like a blow on the skull, why bother reading it in the first place? So that it can make us happy, as you put it? Good God, we'd be just as happy if we had no books at all; books that make us happy we could, in a pinch, also write ourselves. What we need are books that hit us like a most painful misfortune, like the death of someone we loved more than we love ourselves, that make us feel as though we had been banished to the woods, far from any human presence, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us. That is what I believe.”

“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.”

“The books were oldand well worn, the cover of one of them had nearly broken through in itsmiddle, and it was held together with a few threads. "Everything is sodirty here," said K., shaking his head, and before he could pick thebooks up the woman wiped some of the dust off with her apron. K. tookhold of the book that lay on top and threw it open, an indecent pictureappeared. A man and a woman sat naked on a sofa, the base intent ofwhoever drew it was easy to see but he had been so grossly lacking inskill that all that anyone could really make out were the man and thewoman who dominated the picture with their bodies, sitting in overlyupright postures that created a false perspective and made it difficultfor them to approach each other. K. didn't thumb through that book anymore, but just threw open the next one at its title page, it was a novelwith the title, What Grete Suffered from her Husband, Hans. "So this isthe sort of law book they study here," said K., "this is the sort ofperson sitting in judgement over me.”

“If the book we are reading does not wake us, as with a fist hammering on our skulls, then why do we read it? Good God, we also would be happy if we had no books and such books that make us happy we could, if need be, write ourselves. What we must have are those books that come on us like ill fortune, like the death of one we love better than ourselves, like suicide. A book must be an ice axe to break the sea frozen inside us.What we need are books that hit us like a most painful misfortune, like the death of someone we loved more than we love ourselves, that make us feel as though we had been banished to the woods, far from any human presence, like a suicide. A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.”

“Books are a narcotic.”