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What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Franz Kafka

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
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
Many a book is like a key to unknown chambers within the castle of one’s own self.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book Philosophy Yourself
He is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t yet lived.
FRANZ KAFKA

Afraid Death Deep Himself Live
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book Kind Myself Thinking Wound
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
I am a cage, in search of a bird.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Man Struggle World
I lack nothing. I only needed myself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Need Self Love
Sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a sleepless man the most guilty.
FRANZ KAFKA

Guilty Man Wake Up
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
A First Sign of the Beginning of Understanding is the Wish to Die.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Bed Dream Happiness Lie Thinking
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
All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.
FRANZ KAFKA

Literature Myself Willing

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

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What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

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