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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

What am I doing here in this endless winter?
FRANZ KAFKA

End Myself Winter
First impressions are always unreliable.
FRANZ KAFKA

Appearance One Liner
Books are a narcotic.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book One Liner
There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe, but not for us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Break Up Hope Sadness World
I am a cage, in search of a bird.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Search
It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.
FRANZ KAFKA

Philosophy Stupidity
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
A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book One Liner Sea
I lack nothing. I only needed myself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Need Self Love
I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person.
FRANZ KAFKA

Easy Mindset Myself People Person
Better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Material Need Philosophy
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
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
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 need solitude for my writing; not ‘like a hermit’ – that wouldn’t be enough – but like a dead man.
FRANZ KAFKA

Dead Enough Man Myself Need Pain Solitude Writing
Even the merest gesture is holy if it is filled with faith.
FRANZ KAFKA

Faith Simplicity

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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Popular Authors

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