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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

You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.
FRANZ KAFKA

Avoid Freedom Hold Nature Suffering World Yourself
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
People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as ‘nauseatingly miserable beyond repair’.
FRANZ KAFKA

Misery People
We photograph things in order to drive them out of our minds. My stories are a way of shutting my eyes.
FRANZ KAFKA

Eyes Mindset Myself Ourselves Photograph Story
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
A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.
FRANZ KAFKA

Book One Liner Sea
I am always trying to convey something that can’t be conveyed, to explain something which is inexplicable, to tell about something I have in my bones, something which can be expressed only in the bones.
FRANZ KAFKA

Explanation Expression Myself Try
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 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
I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.
FRANZ KAFKA

Feeling Forever Hands Myself Thinking
I dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more
FRANZ KAFKA

Dream Each Other Hide Myself See
In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.
FRANZ KAFKA

Man Struggle World
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
Hold fast to the diary from today on! Write regularly! Don’t surrender! Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it every moment.
FRANZ KAFKA

Hold Moments Myself Worth Writing
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
The meaning of life is that it stops.
FRANZ KAFKA

Death Life One Liner Philosophy

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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