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He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.

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
FrantiĊĦek Kafka
Kafka
Brain
Without
Metamorphosis
Backbone
Brains
Tool
Boss
Tools

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There is nothing besides a spiritual world what we call the world of the senses is the Evil in the spiritual world, and what we call Evil is only the necessity of a moment in our eternal evolution.
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I can't feel a thing All mournful petal storms are dancing inside the very private spring of my head.
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Writing [is] a form of prayer.
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We are sinful not only because we have eaten of the Tree of Knowledge, but also because we have not yet eaten of the Tree of Life. The state in which we are is sinful, irrespective of guilt.
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If it had been possible to build the Tower of Babel without climbing it, it would have been permitted.
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The Diabolical sometimes assumes the aspect of the Good, or even embodies itself completely in its form. If this remains concealedfrom me, I am of course defeated, for this Good is more tempting than the genuine Good.
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From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.
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The spirit becomes free only when it ceases to be a support.
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We live in an age which is so possessed by demons, that soon we shall only be able to do goodness and justice in the deepest secrecy, as if it were a crime.
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Productivity is being able to do things that you were never able to do before.
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I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.
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The true way goes over a rope which is not stretched at any great height but just above the ground. It seems more designed to make people stumble than to be walked upon.
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I never wish to be easily defined.
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Even the merest gesture is holy if it is filled with faith.
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You are so vulnerably haunting. Your eeriness is terrifyingly irresistible.
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This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.
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First impressions are always unreliable.
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Sometimes I think I can expiate all my past and future sins through the aching of my bones.
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We are separated from God on two sides the Fall separates us from Him, the Tree of Life separates Him from us.
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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.
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