My grandfather used to say: Life is astoundingly short. To me, looking back over it, life seems so foreshortened that I scarcely understand, for instance, how a young man can decide to ride over to the next village without being afraid that -not to mention accidents- even the span of a normal happy life may fall far short of the time needed for such a journey.
Franz KafkaBut what if all the tranquility, all the comfort, all the contentment were now to come to a horrifying end?
Franz KafkaWriting sustains me. But wouldnโt it be better to say it sustains this kind of life? Which doesn't mean life is any better when I donโt write. On the contrary, it is far worse, wholly unbearable, and inevitably ends in madness. This is, of course, only on the assumption that I am a writer even when I donโt write - which is indeed the case; and a non-writing writer is, in fact, a monster courting insanity.
Franz KafkaI cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.
Franz Kafka