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Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.

Franz Kafka

Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.
FRANZ KAFKA

Ability Beautiful Growth Happiness Old Youth
What am I doing here in this endless winter?
FRANZ KAFKA

End Myself Winter
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
There art two cardinal sins from which all others spring: Impatience and Laziness.
FRANZ KAFKA

Art Patience Sin
Was he an animal, that music could move him so? He felt as if the way to the unknown nourishment he longed for were coming to light.
FRANZ KAFKA

Animal Himself Light Music
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
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
I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.
FRANZ KAFKA

Darkness Help Myself Talk Thinking
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
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book Kind Myself Thinking Wound
I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.
FRANZ KAFKA

Let Go Myself Problem
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 am in chains. Don’t touch my chains.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Deep Kill Myself One Liner
Logic may indeed be unshakeable, but it cannot withstand a man who is determined to live.
FRANZ KAFKA

Determination Live Logic Man
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.

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Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.

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