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A man of action forced into a state of thought is unhappy until he can get out of it.

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
Action
Thought
States
Men
Forced
Unhappy
State
Force

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One day, a leopard stalked into the synagogue, roaring and lashing its tail. Three weeks later, it had become part of the liturgy.
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A first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die.
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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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Writing [is] a form of prayer.
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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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I wanted to escape the unrest, to shut out the voices around me and within me, so I write.
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You are so vulnerably haunting. Your eeriness is terrifyingly irresistible.
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Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.
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Every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.
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Love has as few problems as a motor car. The only problems are the driver, the passengers, and the road.
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I do not see the world at all I invent it.
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I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.
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A picture of my existence... would show a useless wooden stake covered in snow... stuck loosely at a slant in the ground in a ploughed field on the edge of a vast open plain on a dark winter night.
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The observer of the soul cannot penetrate into the soul, but there doubtless is a margin where he comes into contact with it. Recognition of this contact is the fact that even the soul does not know of itself. Hence it must remain unknown. That would be sad only if there were anything apart from the soul, but there is nothing else.
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The notion of the infinite expanse and copiousness of the cosmos is the result of the mixture, carried to the extreme limit, of laborious creation and free self-determination.
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I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.
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God gives the nuts, but he does not crack them.
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