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Now the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence... someone might possibly have escaped from their singing but from their silence, certainly never.
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
Never
Certainly
Singing
Sirens
Silence
Escaped
Song
Namely
Someone
Fatal
Stills
Weapon
Still
Possibly
Might
Weapons
More quotes by Franz Kafka
I do not see the world at all I invent it.
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One must fight to get to the top, especially if one starts at the bottom.
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A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul.
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As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.
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All human errors are impatience, a premature breaking off of methodical procedure, an apparent fencing-in of what is apparently at issue.
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A belief is like a guillotine, just as heavy, just as light.
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I believe that we should read only those books that bite and sting us. If a book we are reading does not rouse us with a blow to the head, then why read it?
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I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.
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Faith, like a guillotine. As heavy, as light.
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You too have weapons.
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The mediation by the serpent was necessary. Evil can seduce man, but cannot become man.
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Anybody who preserves the ability to recognize beauty will never get old.
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Association with human beings lures one into self-observation.
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Life's splendor forever lies in wait about each one of us in all its fullness, but veiled from view, deep down, invisible, far off. It is there, though, not hostile, not reluctant, not deaf. If you summon it by the right word, by its right name, it will come.
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Leopards break into the temple and drink all the sacrificial vessels dry it keeps happening in the end, it can be calculated in advance and is incorporated into the ritual.
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Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.
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And so gentlemen, I learned. Oh, if you have to learn, you learn if you’re desperate for a way out, you learn you learn pitilessly. You stand over yourself with a whip in your hand if there’s the least resistance, you lash yourself.
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There sat I, a faded being, under faded leaves.
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The Bible is a sanctum the world, sputum.
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I never wish to be easily defined.
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