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

Franz Kafka

Slept, awoke, slept, awoke, miserable life.
FRANZ KAFKA

Life Wake Up
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
Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it at every moment.
FRANZ KAFKA

Moments Myself Worth
Love is a drama of contradictions.
FRANZ KAFKA

Love One Liner
This tremendous world I have inside of me. How to free myself, and this world, without tearing myself to pieces. And rather tear myself to a thousand pieces than be buried with this world within me.
FRANZ KAFKA

Freedom Myself Philosophy Pieces World
For myself I am too heavy, and for you too light.
FRANZ KAFKA

Light Myself Yourself
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
I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep I Miss You Myself
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
By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.
FRANZ KAFKA

Believe Creation Desire Existence Passion
I am free and that is why I am lost.
FRANZ KAFKA

Freedom Lost Myself One Liner Philosophy
You can choose to be free , but it’s last decision you’ll ever make
FRANZ KAFKA

Choice Decision Freedom Yourself
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
I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book Kind Myself Thinking Wound
Kill me, or you are a murderer.
FRANZ KAFKA

Deep Kill Myself One Liner
I do not read advertisements. I would spend all of my time wanting things.
FRANZ KAFKA

Myself Reading Time

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

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

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