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As a writer, I find it a literal impossibility to disengage from whatever the location might be, given how everything that eventually transpires as part of the ongoing narrative is informed by it. In other words, try relocating the stories elsewhere, and what's the effect? They almost immediately cease to exist.

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Franz Kafka

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

Eye, Mind, Order, Photograph, Stories, Way
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There has never been a time in which I have been convinced from within myself that I am alive. You see, I have only such a fugitive awareness of things around me that I always feel they were once real and are now fleeting away. I have a constant longing, my dear sir, to catch a glimpse of things as they may have been before they show themselves to me. I feel that they were calm and beautiful. It must be so, for I often hear people talking about them as though they were.

Beautiful, Real, Talking, Hear

I can prove at any time that my education tried to make another person out of me than the one I became. It is for the harm, therefore, that my educators could have done me in accordance with their intentions that I reproach them; I demand from their hands the person I now am, and since they cannot give him to me, I make of my reproach and laughter a drumbeat sounding in the world beyond.

Education, Time, Laughter, Accordance, Hands, Drumbeat

Believing in progress does not mean believing that any progress has yet been made.

Believe, Mean, Progress, Believing

Now the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence. . . someone might possibly have escaped from their singing; but from their silence, certainly never.

Song, Silence, Singing, Possibly, Escaped

There art two cardinal sins from which all others spring: Impatience and Laziness.

Patience, Art, Spring, Cardinal
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