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

Franz Kafka

It certainly was not my intention to make you suffer, yet I have done so; obviously it never will be my intention to make you suffer, yet I shall always do so.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Suffering Yourself
The person I am in the company of my sisters has been entirely different from the person I am in the company of other people. Fearless, powerful, surprising, moved as I otherwise am only when I write.
FRANZ KAFKA

Company Different Fear Myself People Person Powerful Writing
Please — consider me a dream.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Break Up Hope Sadness World
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.
FRANZ KAFKA

Explanation Expression Myself Try
Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy.
FRANZ KAFKA

Leaving Politics Revolution
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
I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.
FRANZ KAFKA

Let Go Myself Problem
Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.
FRANZ KAFKA

Ability Beautiful Growth Old See
I am in chains. Don’t touch my chains.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Touch
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
I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Explanation Myself Understand
Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.
FRANZ KAFKA

Destination Kiss Writing
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
I have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.
FRANZ KAFKA

Death Desire End Life Myself Resistance
They’re talking about things of which they don’t have the slightest understanding, anyway. It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.
FRANZ KAFKA

Stupidity Talk Understand

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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