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There sat I, a faded being, under faded leaves.
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
Faded
Sat
Leaves
More quotes by Franz Kafka
You're not cross with me, though? he said. She pulled her hand away and answered, No, no, I'm never cross with anyone.
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Going to pieces. To go to pieces so pointlessly and unnecessarily.
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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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I wanted to escape the unrest, to shut out the voices around me and within me, so I write.
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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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The delights of this life are not its own, but our fear of the ascent into a higher life the torments of this life are not its own, but our self-torment because of that fear.
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The ulterior motives with which you absorb and assimilate Evil are not your own but those of Evil.
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There is a down-and-outness under true knowledge and a childlike happy arising from it.
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You need not even listen, just wait...the world will offer itself freely to you, unmasking itself.
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A first sign of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die.
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I never wish to be easily defined.
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I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn't wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for?
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Believing means liberating the indestructible element in oneself, or, more accurately, liberating oneself, or, more accurately, being indestructible, or, more accurately, being.
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God gives the nuts, but he does not crack them.
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Man cannot live without a continuous confidence in something indestructible within himself.
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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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German is my mother tongue and as such more natural to me, but I consider Czech much more affectionate, which is why your letter removes several uncertainties I see you more clearly, the movements of your body, your hands, so quick, so resolute, it’s almost like a meeting.
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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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The whole visible world is perhaps nothing more than the rationalization of a man who wants to find peace for a moment.
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What am I doing here in this endless winter?
Franz Kafka