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In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.

Franz Kafka

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
You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart; imagine my heartbeat when you are in this state.
FRANZ KAFKA

Heart Imagination Quiet Yourself
You only need to change your direction, said the cat, and ate it up.
FRANZ KAFKA

Change Direction Eat Need Yourself
I am a cage, in search of a bird.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Search
First impressions are always unreliable.
FRANZ KAFKA

Appearance One Liner
A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.
FRANZ KAFKA

Sanity Writing
Kill me, or you are a murderer.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Kill Myself One Liner
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
You misinterpret everything, even the silence.
FRANZ KAFKA

Silence Yourself
Most men are not wicked, They are sleep-walkers, not evil evildoers.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Evil Man Walk
I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Determination Live Logic Man
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
Last night I dreamed about you. What happened in detail I can hardly remember, all I know is that we kept merging into one another. I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire.
FRANZ KAFKA

Dream Myself Night Remember Yourself
I am dirty, Milena, endlessly dirty, that is why I make such a fuss about cleanliness. None sing as purely as those in deepest hell; it is their singing we take for the singing of angels.
FRANZ KAFKA

Angel Hell Myself Sing
Forget everything. Open the windows. Clear the room. The wind blows through it. You see only its emptiness, you search in every corner and don’t find yourself.
FRANZ KAFKA

Empty Forget Philosophy Search Yourself

In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.

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In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.

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