Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself. – Franz Kafka
May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air. – Franz Kafka

Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself. – Franz Kafka
May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air. – Franz Kafka
A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul. – Franz Kafka
In theory there is a possibility of perfect happiness: To believe in the indestructible element within one, and not to strive towards it. – Franz Kafka
Lobsters were tossed up to the men by friendly fishermen. Beer was handed up as well and kept cold in the freshwater tanks in the lighthouse. If the Coast Guard ship Sassafras was sighted heading in with an inspector on board, the brew was hidden in the rocks… – Elinor DeWire, Lighthouses of the Mid-Atlantic Coast