/lit/ - Literature

>>22034209

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgdS5HYgaGk

>>19336653
>"He wallowed deeper and deeper in self-criticism. Yet it only needed the lightest touch - as when one flicks on the light and everything becomes brilliantly clear - for his self-accusation to become an accusation against the times, against the whole world. Choking with his catalogue of hates, he would pour his fury over everything, against mankind in general who did not understand him, who did not appreciate him and by whom he was persecuted"
p.158 / 159

>"There was a strange contradiction which always struck me: all his thoughts and ambitions were directed towards the problem of how to help the masses, the simple, the decent but under-priveleged people with whom he identified himself - they were ever-present in his thoughts - but in actual fact he always avoided any contact with people"
p.164

>"I was surprised he had so much spare time and asked innocently whether he had a job. 'Of course not', was his gruff reply [...] He did not consider that any particular work [...] was necessary for him"
p.29/30

>"Many other qualities which are characteristic of youth were lacking in him: a carefree letting go of himself, living only for the day, the happy attitude of 'what is to be, will be'. His idea was that these were things that did not become a young man"
p.43

>"He had no comprehension of enjoyment of life as others knew it. He did not smoke, he did not drink, and in Vienna, for instance, he lives for days on milk and bread only"
p.39

>"When we passed by the Cafe Baumgartner he would get wildly worked up about the young men who were exhibiting themselves at marble-topped tables behind the big window panes and wasting their time in idle gossip, without apparently realizing how much this indignation was contradicted by his own way of life"
p.30

>"Although he always felt a sense of responsibility for everything that happened, he was always a lonely and solitary man, determined to reply upon himself, and so to reach his goal"
p.165

>"But he? Where should he have gone that Christmas Eve? He had no acquaintances, no friends, nobody who would have received him with open arms. For him the world was hostile and empty. [...] All he ever told me of that Christmas Eve was that he had wandered around for hours. Only towards morning had he returned home and gone to sleep. What he thought, felt and suffered I never knew"
p.140

>"'Gustle', she said - usually she called me Herr Kubizek, but in that hour she used the name by which Adolf always called me - 'go on being a good friend to my son when I'm no longer here. He has no one else'. With tears in my eyes I promised, and then I went"
p.137

>"He no longer attended school; did nothing to get himself job training; lived with his mother and let her keep him. But he was not idle: this period of his life was filled with restless activity. He sketched, he painted, he wrote poetry, he read"
p.62

>that picture

>>19031207