I believe that we should read only those books that bite and sting us. If a book we are reading does not rouse us with a blow to the head, then why read it?

Someone must have slandered Josef K., for one morning, without having done anything truly wrong, he was arrested.

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

Writer speaks a stench.

Death confronts us not unlike the historical battle scene that hangs on the wall of the classroom. It is our task to obscure or quite obliterate the picture by our deeds while we are still in this world.

The whole visible world is perhaps nothing more than the rationalization of a man who wants to find peace for a moment.

Sensual love deceives one as to the nature of heavenly love; it could not do so alone, but since it unconsciously has the element of heavenly love within it, it can do so.