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Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

Franz Kafka

Hold fast to the diary from today on! Write regularly! Don’t surrender! Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it every moment.
FRANZ KAFKA

Hold Moments Myself Worth Writing
Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects.
FRANZ KAFKA

Feeling Fortune Grateful Love Myself
You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart; imagine my heartbeat when you are in this state.
FRANZ KAFKA

Heart Imagination Quiet Yourself
Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy.
FRANZ KAFKA

Leaving Politics Revolution
Most men are not wicked, They are sleep-walkers, not evil evildoers.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Evil Man Walk
It would have been so pointless to kill himself that, even if he had wanted to, the pointlessness would have made him unable.
FRANZ KAFKA

Death Himself Kill Philosophy
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
You misinterpret everything, even the silence.
FRANZ KAFKA

Silence Yourself
A First Sign of the Beginning of Understanding is the Wish to Die.
FRANZ KAFKA

Beginning Death Understand
From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.
FRANZ KAFKA

Inspirational Philosophy
I lack nothing. I only needed myself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Need Self Love
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.
FRANZ KAFKA

Feeling Forever Hands Myself Thinking
In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.
FRANZ KAFKA

Man Struggle World
There art two cardinal sins from which all others spring: Impatience and Laziness.
FRANZ KAFKA

Art Patience Sin
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
Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Love Myself

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

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Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

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