Jeptha Evans

I have a photograph of Kafka in that dear little derby of his that I love so much, as I love him, it occurs to me. And how strange, I can't help thinking, to feel so much for somebody I never met—more than for people I know, living people who might [...]

I thought all of them were important, every one, though what I meant was that I was important, my feelings for them, my feelings. Over a period of years they have emerged from the cloud of passion and anguish. I have begun to see their faces, e [...]