black
grey
blue
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I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.

Franz Kafka

Forget everything. Open the windows. Clear the room. The wind blows through it. You see only its emptiness, you search in every corner and don’t find yourself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Empty Forget Philosophy Search Yourself
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.
FRANZ KAFKA

Darkness Deep Different Myself Talk Thinking Writing
No, said the priest, you don’t need to accept everything as true, you only have to accept it as necessary. Depressing view, said K. The lie made into the rule of the world.
FRANZ KAFKA

Acceptance Lie Necessary Need Rule World Yourself
You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.
FRANZ KAFKA

Heart Myself Quiet Yourself
There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe, but not for us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Break Up Hope Sadness World
There art two cardinal sins from which all others spring: Impatience and Laziness.
FRANZ KAFKA

Art Patience Sin
In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.
FRANZ KAFKA

Life Material Poetry Way Willing Yourself
Nothing unites two people so completely, especially if, like you and me, all they have is words.
FRANZ KAFKA

People Unity Word
The Kafka paradox: art depends on truth, but truth, being indivisable, cannot know itself: to tell the truth is to lie. Thus the writer is the truth, and yet when he speaks he lies.
FRANZ KAFKA

Art Deep Lying Philosophy Talk Truth Writing
Beyond a certain point there is no return. This point has to be reached.
FRANZ KAFKA

Beyond Inspirational Return
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
FRANZ KAFKA

Love Yourself
Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Cold Deep Oneself Philosophy Solitude Writing
Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.
FRANZ KAFKA

Destination Kiss Writing
As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.
FRANZ KAFKA

Bed Dream Easy Himself Morning Transformation Wake Up
In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.
FRANZ KAFKA

Man Struggle World
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

Animal Himself Light Music

I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.

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I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.

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