“Now I can look at you in peace; I don’t eat you any more.”

I need solitude for my writing; not ‘like a hermit’ – that wouldn’t be enough – but like a dead man.

It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.

There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe, but not for us.

The limited circle is pure.

All language is but a poor translation.

So eager are our people to obliterate the present.

I can love only what I can place so high above me that I cannot reach it.

It is not necessary to accept everything as true, one must only accept it as necessary.’ ‘A melancholy conclusion,’ said K. ‘It turns lying into a universal principle.

Evil is whatever distracts.

He is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t yet lived.

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.

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.

Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.

You misinterpret everything, even the silence.

May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.