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Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.

Franz Kafka

All language is but a poor translation.
FRANZ KAFKA

Language One Liner Poor
So eager are our people to obliterate the present.
FRANZ KAFKA

Ourselves People Present
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
I can love only what I can place so high above me that I cannot reach it.
FRANZ KAFKA

Love Myself Place
By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.
FRANZ KAFKA

Believe Creation Desire Existence Passion
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 can choose to be free , but it’s last decision you’ll ever make
FRANZ KAFKA

Choice Decision Freedom Yourself
Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it at every moment.
FRANZ KAFKA

Moments Myself Worth
A First Sign of the Beginning of Understanding is the Wish to Die.
FRANZ KAFKA

Beginning Death Understand
Now I can look at you in peace; I don’t eat you any more.
FRANZ KAFKA

Eat Myself Peace Yourself
Most men are not wicked, They are sleep-walkers, not evil evildoers.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Evil Man Walk
I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Reading Time
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
I have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.
FRANZ KAFKA

Breathe Myself Quiet
Kill me, or you are a murderer.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Kill Myself One Liner
May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.
FRANZ KAFKA

Kiss Misery Myself Night Paper Yourself

Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.

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Just think how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm.

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