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"Oh well, memories, said I. Yes, even remembering in itself is sad, yet how much more its object! Don't let yourself in for things like that, it's not for you and not for me. It only weakens one's present position without strengthening the former one - nothing is more obvious - quite apart from the fact that the former one doesn't need strengthening."
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"Memory is a few lines snipped from a larger story that we are privileged to tuck away between the pages of our minds."

"Scent is the strongest tie to memory."

"The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before."

"Tell me about your family," I said. And so she did. I listened intently as my mother went through each branch of the tree. Years later, after the funeral, Maria had asked me questions about the family - who was related to whom - and I struggled. I couldn't remember. A big chunk of our history had been buried with my mother. You should never let your past disappear that way."

"My argument against God was that the universe seemed so cruel and unjust. But how had I got this idea of just and unjust? A man does not call a line crooked unless he has some idea of a straight line. What was I comparing this universe with when I called it unjust?"

"I remembered that, and, remembering that, I remembered everything."

"Hey, it's Col. I'm standing in a soybean field outside of Gutshot, Tennessee, which is a long story, and it's hot. K. I'm standing here sweating like I had hyperhidrosis, that disease where you sweat a lot. Crap. That's not interesting. But anyway, it's hot, and so I'm thinking about cold to stay cool. And I was remembering walking through the snow coming back from the ridiculous movie. Do you remember that, K? We were on Giddings, and the snow made it so quiet, I couldn't hear a thing in the world but you. And it was so cold then, and so silent, and I loved you so much. Now it's hot, and dead quiet again, and I love you still."

"I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me."
Explore more quotes by Franz Kafka

"Test yourself on mankind. It is something that makes the doubter doubt, the believer believe."

"One tells as few lies as possible only by telling as few lies as possible, and not by having the least possible opportunity to do so."

"It would have been so pointless to kill himself that, even if he had wanted to, the pointlessness would have made him unable."

"It is as if I were made of stone, as if I were my own tombstone, there is no loophole for doubt or for faith, for love or repugnance, for courage or anxiety, in particular or in general, only a vague hope lives on, but no better than the inscriptions on tombstones."

"But what if all the tranquility, all the comfort, all the contentment were now to come to a horrifying end?"

"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."

"One idiot is one idiot. Two idiots are two idiots. Ten thousand idiots are a political party."

"In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it."

"What I write is different from what I say, what I say is different from what I think, what I think is different from what I ought to think and so it goes further into the deepest darkness."
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