black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

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

In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.
FRANZ KAFKA

Man Struggle World
Do you know, darling? When you became involved with others you quite possibly stepped down a level or two, but If you become involved with me, you will be throwing yourself into the abyss.
FRANZ KAFKA

Possible Quite Yourself
Every revolution evaporates and leaves behind only the slime of a new bureaucracy.
FRANZ KAFKA

Leaving Politics Revolution
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
Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.
FRANZ KAFKA

Ability Beautiful Growth Old See
We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.
FRANZ KAFKA

Eyes Mindset Myself Ourselves Photograph Story
The truth is always an abyss. One must — as in a swimming pool — dare to dive from the quivering springboard of trivial everyday experience and sink into the depths, in order to later rise again — laughing and fighting for breath — to the now doubly illuminated surface of things.
FRANZ KAFKA

Breathe Experience Fight Laughter Rise Truth
It is not necessary to accept everything as true, one must only accept it as necessary.’ ‘A melancholy conclusion,’ said K. ‘It turns lying into a universal principle.
FRANZ KAFKA

Acceptance Lying Necessary Principle True
You can choose to be free , but it’s last decision you’ll ever make
FRANZ KAFKA

Choice Decision Freedom Yourself
I’m thinking only of my illness and my health, though both, the first as well as the second, are you.
FRANZ KAFKA

Health Myself Thinking Yourself
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
He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.
FRANZ KAFKA

Himself Slave
I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more
FRANZ KAFKA

Dream Each Other Hide Myself See
Please — consider me a dream.
FRANZ KAFKA

Dream Myself
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
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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Franz Kafka Quotes