You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.
FRANZ KAFKAMost men are not wicked, They are sleep-walkers, not evil evildoers.
More Franz Kafka Quotes
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They say ignorance is bliss, they’re wrong
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I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.
FRANZ KAFKA -
Books are a narcotic.
FRANZ KAFKA -
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
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Most men are not wicked, They are sleep-walkers, not evil evildoers.
FRANZ KAFKA -
First impressions are always unreliable.
FRANZ KAFKA -
You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart; imagine my heartbeat when you are in this state.
FRANZ KAFKA -
By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.
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Was he an animal, that music could move him so? He felt as if the way to the unknown nourishment he longed for were coming to light.
FRANZ KAFKA -
He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.
FRANZ KAFKA -
A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.
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All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.
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My guiding principle is this: Guilt is never to be doubted.
FRANZ KAFKA -
I can love only what I can place so high above me that I cannot reach it.
FRANZ KAFKA -
I am a cage, in search of a bird.
FRANZ KAFKA -
Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.
FRANZ KAFKA -
I lack nothing. I only needed myself.
FRANZ KAFKA -
I am in chains. Don’t touch my chains.
FRANZ KAFKA -
Now I can look at you in peace; I don’t eat you any more.
FRANZ KAFKA -
I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicable, to tell about something I have in my bones, something which can be expressed only in the bones.
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It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.
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So eager are our people to obliterate the present.
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May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.
FRANZ KAFKA -
Paths are made by walking
FRANZ KAFKA -
Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.
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The meaning of life is that it stops.
FRANZ KAFKA