Der wahre Weg geht über ein Seil, das nicht in der Höhe gespannt ist, sondern knapp über dem Boden. Es scheint mehr bestimmt, stolpern zu machen, als begangen zu werden.
It was very early in the morning, the streets clean and deserted, I was on my way to the station. As I compared my watch with the clock on a tower I saw that it was much later than I had thought, I had to make great haste; in my alarm at this discovery I became unsure of the way, I was still something of a stranger in this town; luckily, there was a policeman at hand, I ran up to him and breathlessly asked him the way.
He smiled and said: “Do you expect to discover the way from me?”
“Yes,” I said, “since I cannot find it myself.”
“Give it up, give it up,” said he, and turned away with a great flourish, like a man who wants to be alone with his laughter.
Franz Kafka, Complete Stories