The novel is a territory where one does not make assertions; it is a territory of play and of hypotheses.

Hate traps us by binding us too tightly to our adversary.

And I ran after that voice through the streets so as not to lose sight of the splendid wreath of bodies gliding over the city, and I realized with anguish in my heart that they were flying like birds and I was falling like a stone, that they had wings and I would never have any.

The moment Kafka attracts more attenetion than Joseph K., Kafka's posthumous death begins.

Metaphors are dangerous. Love begins with a metaphor

The source of anxiety lies in the future. If you can keep the future out of mind, you can forget your worries.

No act is of itself either good or bad. Only its place in the order of things makes it good or bad.