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Written kisses don't reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.
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
Way
Ghosts
Destination
Ghost
Drunk
Kissing
Reach
Written
Rather
Kisses
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Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty.
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They did not know what we can now guess at, contemplating the course of history: that change begins in the soul before it appears in ordinary existence.
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There can be knowledge of the diabolical, but no belief in it, for more of the diabolical than there is does not exist.
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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 am a retiring, silent, unsociable, and discontent person.
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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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You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.
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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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I won't give up the diary again. I must hold on here, it is the only place I can.
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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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Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.
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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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Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one’s ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.
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Books are a narcotic.
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Kill me, or you are a murderer.
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