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What am I doing here in this endless winter?

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 have hardly anything in common with myself and should stand very quietly in a corner, content that I can breathe.
FRANZ KAFKA

Breathe Myself Quiet
Believing in progress does not mean believing that any progress has yet been made.
FRANZ KAFKA

Believe Deep Success
My guiding principle is this: Guilt is never to be doubted.
FRANZ KAFKA

Doubt Guilty Myself Principle
I am in chains. Don’t touch my chains.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Determination Live Logic Man
May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.
FRANZ KAFKA

Kiss Misery Myself Night Paper 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
You only need to change your direction, said the cat, and ate it up.
FRANZ KAFKA

Change Direction Eat Need Yourself
What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.
FRANZ KAFKA

Escape Forget Myself
He was a tool of the boss, without brains or backbone.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Misery People
In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.
FRANZ KAFKA

Man Struggle World
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
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

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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