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What am I doing here in this endless winter?

Franz Kafka

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
What am I doing here in this endless winter?
FRANZ KAFKA

End Myself Winter
Love is, that you are the knife which I plunge into myself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Love Myself
Nothing unites two people so completely, especially if, like you and me, all they have is words.
FRANZ KAFKA

People Unity Word
I have spent all my life resisting the desire to end it.
FRANZ KAFKA

Death Desire End Life Myself Resistance
There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe, but not for us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Break Up Hope Sadness World
A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.
FRANZ KAFKA

Sanity Writing
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
The meaning of life is that it stops.
FRANZ KAFKA

Death Life One Liner Philosophy
Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it at every moment.
FRANZ KAFKA

Moments Myself Worth
It certainly was not my intention to make you suffer, yet I have done so; obviously it never will be my intention to make you suffer, yet I shall always do so.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Suffering Yourself
You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.
FRANZ KAFKA

Choice Freedom Happiness Leaving Listen Need Quiet Simplicity Wait World Yourself
Evil is whatever distracts.
FRANZ KAFKA

Evil One Liner
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’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
I’m doing badly, I’m doing well, whichever you prefer.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Myself Yourself

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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