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All language is but a poor translation.

Franz Kafka

This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.
FRANZ KAFKA

Freedom Myself Philosophy Pieces World
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
You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.
FRANZ KAFKA

Avoid Freedom Hold Nature Suffering World Yourself
Kill me, or you are a murderer.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Kill Myself One Liner
Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.
FRANZ KAFKA

Fashion Inspirational Logic Soul Yourself
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’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 limited circle is pure.
FRANZ KAFKA

Limitation Pure
Sleep is the most innocent creature there is and a sleepless man the most guilty.
FRANZ KAFKA

Guilty Man Wake Up
I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep I Miss You Myself
I’m doing badly, I’m doing well, whichever you prefer.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Myself Yourself
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Leaving Politics Revolution
Even the merest gesture is holy if it is filled with faith.
FRANZ KAFKA

Faith Simplicity
I am in chains. Don’t touch my chains.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Touch
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

All language is but a poor translation.

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All language is but a poor translation.

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