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What am I doing here in this endless winter?

Franz Kafka

I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep I Miss You Myself
You misinterpret everything, even the silence.
FRANZ KAFKA

Silence Yourself
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
Beyond a certain point there is no return. This point has to be reached.
FRANZ KAFKA

Beyond Inspirational Return
Paths are made by walking
FRANZ KAFKA

Inspirational Path Walk
There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe, but not for us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Break Up Hope Sadness World
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
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
What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.
FRANZ KAFKA

Escape Forget Myself
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
Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.
FRANZ KAFKA

Destination Kiss Writing
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
You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart.
FRANZ KAFKA

Heart Myself Quiet Yourself
There art two cardinal sins from which all others spring: Impatience and Laziness.
FRANZ KAFKA

Art Patience Sin
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
People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as ‘nauseatingly miserable beyond repair’.
FRANZ KAFKA

Misery People

What am I doing here in this endless winter?

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What am I doing here in this endless winter?

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