A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul (Franz Kafka)
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself (D.H. Lawrence)
When I got home from two pantomime performances last night, I was quite frozen and tired. I climbed into a warm bath with a book – light reading: Spud. (Am re-reading the first Spud book). I do not think this is the kind of book to which Kafka was referring, but it thawed my soul a bit.