I passed by the brothel as though past the house of a beloved.
He looked sadly down at the street, as though it were his own bottomless sadness.
Alone -- do you know what that means?
God gives the nuts, but he does not crack them.
Life is merely terrible; I feel it as few others do. Often — and in my inmost self perhaps all the time — I doubt whether I am a human being.
Even if no salvation should come, I want to be worthy of it at every moment.
Sometimes a thousand shoulders quake under a burden meant just for one.
I need solitude for my writing; not 'like a hermit' - that wouldn't be enough - but like a dead man.
One morning Gregor Samsa found himself, in bed, transformed into a monstrous vermin.