#kafka

I went through a whole phase when I was younger of being obsessed with Tolstoy and Kafka and Camus, all those really, beautiful, dark depressing books. ↗

— Jessica Pare

#being #books #dark #depressing #i

I would really hate it if I could call up Kafka or Hemingway or Salinger and any question I could throw at them they would have an answer. That's the magic when you read or hear something wonderful - there's no one that has all the answers. ↗

— Regina Spektor

#answers #any #call #could #hate

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

— Franz Kafka

#dying #fear #franz #kafka #life

No writer in our time has been more isolated than Kafka, and yet few have achieved communication as well as he did. ↗

— Eugenio Montale

#kafka #silence #communication

But what if all the tranquility, all the comfort, all the contentment were now to come to a horrifying end? ↗

— Franz Kafka

#end #kafka #pain #death

When the little mouse, which was loved as none other was in the mouse-world, got into a trap one night and with a shrill scream forfeited its life for the sight of the bacon, all the mice in the district, in their holes were overcome by trembling and shaking; with eyes blinking uncontrollably they gazed at each other one by one, while their tails scraped the ground busily and senselessly. Then they came out, hesitantly, pushing one another, all drawn towards the scene of death. There it lay, the dear little mouse, its neck caught in the deadly iron, the little pink legs drawn up, and now stiff the feeble body that would so well have deserved a scrap of bacon. The parents stood beside it and eyed their child's remains. ↗

— Franz Kafka

#dying #kafka #mice #mouse #death

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

#dreams

But sleep? On a night like this? What an idea! Just think of how many thoughts a blanket smothers while one lies alone in bed, and how many unhappy dreams it keeps warm. ↗

— Franz Kafka

#kafka #dreams

The three of them knew it. She was Kafka’s mistress. Kafka had dreamt her. The three of them knew it. He was Kafka’s friend. Kafka had dreamt him. The three of them knew it. The woman said to the friend, Tonight I want you to have me. The three of them knew it. The man replied: If we sin, Kafka will stop dreaming us. One of them knew it. There was no longer anyone on earth. Kafka said to himself Now the two of them have gone, I’m left alone. I’ll stop dreaming myself. ↗

— Jorge Luis Borges

#dream #dreams #ein-traum #franz-kafka #jorge-luis-borges

Des occasions précieuses, des possibilités, des sentiments qu’on ne pourra pas retrouver. C’est cela aussi, vivre. Mais à l’intérieur de notre esprit – je crois que c’est à l’intérieur de notre esprit, il y a une petite pièce dans laquelle nous stockons le souvenir de toutes ces occasions perdues. Une pièce avec des rayonnages, comme dans cette bibliothèque, j’imagine. Et il faut que nous fabriquions un index, avec des cartes de références, pour connaître précisément ce qu’il y a dans nos cœurs. Il faut aussi balayer cette pièce, l’aérer, changer l’eau des fleurs. En d’autres termes, tu devras vivre dans ta propre bibliothèque. ↗

— Haruki Murakami

#imagination