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Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.
Franz Kafka
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Franz Kafka
Age: 41 †
Born: 1883
Born: July 3
Died: 1924
Died: July 3
Aphorist
Claims Adjuster
Diarist
Fabulist
Lawyer
Novelist
Poet Lawyer
Prosaist
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Translator
Writer
Praha
František Kafka
Kafka
Knife
Knives
Love
Plunge
More quotes by Franz Kafka
This perversion of the truth, familiar to the artist though it was, always unnerved him afresh and proved too much for him. What was a consequence of the premature ending of his fast was here presented as the cause of it! To fight against this lack of understanding, against a whole world of nonunderstanding, was impossible.
Franz Kafka
Adam's first domestic pet after the expulsion from Paradise was the serpent.
Franz Kafka
Human nature, essentially changeable, as unstable as the dust, can endure no restraint if it binds itself it soon begins to tear madly at its bonds, until it rends everything asunder, the wall, the bonds, and its very self.
Franz Kafka
German is my mother tongue and as such more natural to me, but I consider Czech much more affectionate, which is why your letter removes several uncertainties I see you more clearly, the movements of your body, your hands, so quick, so resolute, it’s almost like a meeting.
Franz Kafka
We were created in order to live in Paradise, and Paradise was ordained to serve us. What was ordained for us has been changed it is not said that this has also happened with what was ordained for Paradise.
Franz Kafka
I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.
Franz Kafka
Anyone who believes cannot experience miracles. By day one does not see any stars. Anyone who does miracles says: I cannot let goof the earth.
Franz Kafka
If all responsibility is imposed on you, then you may want to exploit the moment and want to be overwhelmed by the responsibilityyet if you try, you will notice that nothing was imposed on you, but that you are yourself this responsibility.
Franz Kafka
I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.
Franz Kafka
. . . The books we need are the kind that act upon us like a misfortune, that make us suffer like the death of someone we love more than ourselves, that make us feel as though we were on the verge of suicide, or lost in a forest remote from all human habitation-a book should serve as an axe for the frozen sea within us.
Franz Kafka
Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.
Franz Kafka
One has just been sent out as a biblical dove, has found nothing green, and slips back into the darkness of the Ark
Franz Kafka
His biggest misgiving came from his concern about the loud crash that was bound to occur and would probably create, if not terror, at least anxiety behind all the doors. But that would have to be risked.
Franz Kafka
I hate everything that does not relate to literature, conversations bore me (even if they relate to literature), to visit people bores me, the sorrows and joys of my relatives bore me to the very soul. Conversation takes the importance, the seriousness, the truth, out of everything I think.
Franz Kafka
Evil is whatever distracts.
Franz Kafka
In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it.
Franz Kafka
Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.
Franz Kafka
There was once a community of scoundrels, that is to say, they were not scoundrels, but ordinary people.
Franz Kafka
I never imagined that so many days would ultimately make such a small life.
Franz Kafka
The more horses you yoke the quicker everything will go - not the rending of the block from its foundation, which is impossible, but the snapping of the traces and with that the gay and empty journey.
Franz Kafka