Quote

I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

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
Face
Clasp
Faces
Narrow
Dream
Grave
Ever
Graves
Would
Hide
Deep
Arms
Nobody

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Palestine needs earth, but it does not need lawyers.
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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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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.
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I answer one of your letters, then lie in bed in apparent calm, but my heart beats through my entire body and is conscious only of you. I belong to you there is really no other way of expressing it, and that is not strong enough.
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I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.
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Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty.
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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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For everything outside the phenomenal world, language can only be used allusively, but never even approximately in a comparative way, since, corresponding as it does to the phenomenal world, it is concerned only with property and its relations.
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There will be no proof that I ever was a writer.
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There is a destination but no way there what we refer to as way is hesitation.
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Each of us has his own way of emerging from the underworld, mine is by writing. That's why the only way I can keep going, if at all, is by writing, not through rest and sleep. I am far more likely to achieve peace of mind through writing than the capacity to write through peace.
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I never wish to be easily defined.
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In the fight between you and the world, back the world.
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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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If the book we are reading does not wake us, as with a fist hammering on our skull, why then do we read it?
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There art two cardinal sins from which all others spring: Impatience and Laziness.
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Now I can look at you in peace I don't eat you any more.
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You can choose to be free , but it's last decision you'll ever make
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Written kisses don't reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.
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I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.
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