What joins men together ... is not the sharing of bread but the sharing of enemies.

I guess you ought to be careful about cussin the dead. I would say at the least there probably ain't no luck in it.

If a dream can tell the future it can also thwart that future. For God will not permit that we shall know what is to come. He is bound to no one that the world unfold just so upon its course and those who by some sorcery or by some dream might come to pierce the veil that lies so darkly over all that is before them may serve by just that vision to cause that God should wrench the world from its heading and set it upon another course altogether and then where stands the sorcerer? Where the dreamer and his dream?

Deep in each man is the knowledge that something knows of his existence. Something knows, and cannot be fled nor hid from.

Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not.

Anything that doesn't take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing.

I yearn for the darkness. I pray for death. Real death. If I thought that in death I would meet the people I've known in life I don't know what I'd do. That would be the ultimate horror. The ultimate despair. If I had to meet my mother again and start all of that all over, only this time without the prospect of death to look forward to? Well. That would be the final nightmare. Kafka on wheels.