black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

Franz Kafka

All I am is literature, and I am not able or willing to be anything else.
FRANZ KAFKA

Literature Myself Willing
Please — consider me a dream.
FRANZ KAFKA

Dream Myself
They’re talking about things of which they don’t have the slightest understanding, anyway. It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.
FRANZ KAFKA

Stupidity Talk Understand
It’s only because of their stupidity that they’re able to be so sure of themselves.
FRANZ KAFKA

Philosophy Stupidity
First impressions are always unreliable.
FRANZ KAFKA

Appearance One Liner
Should I be grateful or should I curse the fact that despite all misfortune I can still feel love, an unearthly love but still for earthly objects.
FRANZ KAFKA

Feeling Fortune Grateful Love Myself
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
From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point that must be reached.
FRANZ KAFKA

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

Determination Live Logic Man
Now I can look at you in peace; I don’t eat you any more.
FRANZ KAFKA

Eat Myself Peace Yourself
The limited circle is pure.
FRANZ KAFKA

Limitation Pure
He is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t yet lived.
FRANZ KAFKA

Afraid Death Deep Himself Live
Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.
FRANZ KAFKA

Ability Beautiful Growth Old See
Written kisses don’t reach their destination, rather they are drunk on the way by the ghosts.
FRANZ KAFKA

Destination Kiss Writing
I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.
FRANZ KAFKA

Let Go Myself Problem
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

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Franz Kafka Quotes