ON PARABLES

MANY COMPLAIN that the words of the wise are always merely
parables and of no use in daily life, which is the only life
we have. When the sage says: "Go over," he does not mean
that we should cross to some actual place, which we could
do anyhow if the labor were worth it; he means some fabu-
lous yonder, something unknown to us, something that he can-
not designate more precisely either, and therefore cannot help
us here in the very least. All these parables really set out to
say merely that the incomprehensible is incomprehensible, and
we know that already. But the cares we have to struggle with
every day: that is a different matter.
Concerning this a man once said: Why such reluctance?
If you only followed the parables you yourselves would be-
come parables and with that rid of all your daily cares.
Another said: I bet that is also a parable.
The first said : You have won.
The second said: But unfortunately only in parable.
The first said: No, in reality: in parable you have lost.

150
 A LITTLE FABLE

"ALAS," said the mouse, "the world is growing smaller every

day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept
running and running, and I was glad when at last I saw walls
far away to the right and left, but these long walls have
narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already,
and there in the comer stands the trap that I must run
into." "You only need to change your direction," said the cat,
and ate it up.

151
 ~DE"

NOTES FROM THE YEAR 1920

HE 1s never quite ready for any contingency, yet he cannot

even blame himself for that, for when in this life, which insists
so mercilessly that we must be ready at every moment, can one
ever find time in which to make oneself ready? and even if
there were time how can one make ready before knowing the
task; in other words, can one ever be equal to a natural task,
a spontaneous task that has not merely been artificially con-
cocted? So he has long since fallen under the wheels; a con-
tingency for which, strangely enough~ but also comfortingly
enough, he was least ready of all.

All that he does seems to him, it is true, extraordinarily

new, but also, because of the incredible spate of new things,
extraordinarily amateurish, indeed scarcely tolerable, incapable
of becoming history, breaking short the chain of the genera-
tions, cutting off for the first time at its most profound
source the music of the world, which before him could at least
be divined. Sometimes in his arrogance he has more anxiety
for the world than for himself.
153

I
I
 NOTE S FROM THE YEAR 1920

HE 1s never quite ready for any contingency, yet he cannot

even blame himself for that, for when in this life, which insists
so mercilessly that we must be ready at every moment, can one
ever find time in which to make oneself ready? and even if
there were time how can one make ready before knowing the
task; in other words, can one ever be equal to a natural task,
a spontaneous task that has not merely been artificially con-
cocted? So he has long since fallen under the wheels; a con-
tingency for whicb, strangely enough, but also comfortingly
enough, he was least ready of all.

All that he does seems to him, it is true, extraordinarily

new, but also, because of the incredible spate of new things,
extraordinarily amateurish, indeed scarcely tolerable, incapable
of becoming history, breaking short the chain of the genera-
tions, cutting off for the first time at its most profound
source the music of the world, which before him could at least
be divined . Sometimes in his arrogance he has more anxiety
for the world than for himself.

153

I
r 154 "H, l'
1J

He coul d have resigned him self to a pris on. To end

as a
pris one r-th at coul d be a life' s amb ition . But it was
a barred
cage that he was in. Calm ly and insolently, as if
at home,
the din of the wor ld stre ame d out and in thro ugh
the bars,
the prisoner was really free, he cou ld take part in ever
ything,
noth ing that wen t on outs ide escaped him , he coul
d simply
hav e left the cage, the bars were yards apar t, he was
not even
a pnso ner.

He has the feeling that merely by bein g alive he is

block-
ing his own way. From this sense of hind ranc e, in
turn , he
ded uces the proo f that he is alive .

The bon y stru ctur e of his own forehead blocks his

way; he
batt ers him self bloo dy against his own forehead.

He feels imp riso ned on this eart h, he feels constrict

ed; the
mel anch oly, the imp oten ce, the sicknesses, the feverish
fancies
of the capt ive afflict him ; no com fort can com fort him
, since
it is merely com fort, gent le head-spli tting com fort
glazing the
brut al fact of imp riso nme nt. But if he is asked wha
t he ac-
tual ly wan ts he cann ot reply, for- tha t is one of his
strongest
pro ofs- he has no conc epti on of freedom.

Som e deny the existence of misery by poin ting to the

sun;
he denies the existence of the sun by poin ting to mise
ry.
The sluggish, self-tortu ring, wavelike mot ion of all
life,
whe ther of othe r life or his own, which ofte n seem
s to stag-
nate for a long time but in reality never ceases, tortu
res him
because it brings with it the never-ceasing compulsion
to think.
Som etim es it seems to him that this tortu re heralds
events.
Wh en he hears that a friend is awaiting the birth of a
child he
recognizes that in thou ght he has already suffered
for that
birt h.
 "He" 155

He sees 10 two ways: the first 1s a calm conte mpla tion,

'd ation , inves tigati on, an overflow of life . inevitably in-
cons1 er .
. a certain sensa tion of comf ort. Theh possible manifesta-
I . fi . f 1
. ving
vo f this proce ss are 1n n1te, or t 1oug even a woodlouse
t1ons 0
a relatively large crevice in whic h to accom moda te itself'
needs
Ce whatever is requi red for such labors; even wher e not
no spa
the smallest crack c~n be found_ they may exist in tens of
thousands, mutu ally 1nter penet rahng one anoth er. That is the
first stage. 111e secon d is the mom ent when he is called upon
to render an accou nt of all this, finds hims elf incap able of
uttering a sound, is flung back again on conte mpla tion, etc.,
but now, knowing the hopelessness of it, can no longe r dabbl e
about in it, and so make s his body heavy and sinks with a
curse.

This is the probl em : Many years ago I sat one day, in a

sad enough mood , on the slopes of the Laure nzibe rg. I went
over the wishes that I want ed to realize in life. I found that
the most impo rtant or the most delig htful was the wish to
attain a view of life ( and- this was necessarily boun d up with
it-to convince other s of it in writi ng), in whic h life, while
still retaining its natur al full-b odied rise and fall, woul d simul-
taneously be recognized no less clearly as a nothi ng, a dream,
a dim hovering. A beaut iful wish, perha ps, if I had wished it
rightly. Considered as a wish, some what as if one were to ham-
mer together a table with painf ul and meth odica l techn ical
efficiency, and simul taneo usly do nothi ng at aU, and not in such
a way that peopl e could say: "Ham meri ng a table toget her is
nothing to him," but rathe r, "Ham merin g a table toget her is
really hammering a table toget her to him, but at the same
time it is nothi ng;' wher eby certa inly the hamm ering woul d
have become sti11 bolde r, still surer, still more real and, if
you will, sti11 more senseless.
But he could not wish in this fashio n , for his wish was not
3
wish, but only a vindi catio n of nothi ngnes s, a justification of
 156
no n-e nti ty, a tou ch of ani ma tio n wh
ich he wa nte d to len d to
no n-e nti ty, in wh ich at tha t tim e
he ha d scarcely tak en his
first few con sci ou s ste ps, bu t wh
ich he alr ead y fel t as his
ele me nt. It wa s a sor t of farewell
tha t he too k fro m the illu-
sive wo rld of yo uth ; alt ho ug h yo
uth ha d nev er directly ,de-
cei ved him , bu t on ly cau sed him
to be •dec eiv ed by the
utt era nce s of all the aut ho riti es
he ha d aro un d him . So is
exp lai ned the nec ess ity of his "w ish
."

He pro ves no thi ng bu t him sel f, his

sole pro of is himself,
al_l his op ~o ~e nts ov erc om e him at
on ce bu t no t by refuting
him (he 1s rrr efu tab le) , bu t by pro
vin g themselves.
Hu ma n ass oci ati on s res t on thi s,
tha t som eon e by superior
for ce of life gives the app ear anc
e of hav ing ref ute d oth er
ind ivi du als in the ms elv es irr efu tab
le. Th e res ult is sweet and
co mf ort ing for tho se ind ivi du als ,
bu t it is deficient in tru th
an d inv ari abl y the ref ore in per ma
nen ce.
He wa s on ce pa rt of a mo nu me nta
l gro up. Ar ou nd some
ele vat ed figure or oth er in the een
ter we re ran ged in carefully
tho ug ht- ou t ord er sym bo lic al im age
s of the mi lita ry caste,
the art s, the sci enc es, the han dic raf
ts. He was on e of those
ma ny figures. No w the gro up is
lon g since dispersed, or at
lea st he ha s lef t it an d ma kes his
way thr ou gh life alone. He
no lon ge r has eve n his old vo cat
ion , ind eed he has actually
for go tte n wh at he on ce rep res ent ed.
Pro bab ly it is this _very
for get tin g tha t gives rise to a cer tai
n melanchol~, unc~rta1nty,
un res t, a cer tai n lon gin g for van
ish ed ages, oarken1ng the
pre sen t. An d ye t thi s lon gin g is
an essent~al ele me nt 1n
hu ma n eff ort , per hap s ind eed hu
ma n effort itself.
He do es no t liv e for the sak e of his
personal life; he does
no t thi nk for the sak e of his per son
al tho ugh ts. It seems to
p
''He"
157
him that he lives and thinks under the compulsion of a
family, which, it is true, is itself superabundant in life and
thought, but for which he constitutes, in obedience to some
law unknown to him, a formal necessity,. Because of this un-
known family and this unknown law he cannot be exempted.

The original sin, the ancient wrong committed by man,

consists in the complaint, which man makes and never ceases
making, that a wrong has been done to him, that the origi-
nal sin was once committed upon him ~-

Two children were loitering beside Casinelli's shop window,

a boy of about six, a girl of seven, both well dressed; they
were talking of God and sin. I stopped behind them. The
girl, who seemed to be a Catholic, held that the only real
sin was to deceive God. With childish obstinacy the boy,
who see1ned to be. a Protestant, asked what, then, it was to
deceive human beings or to steal. "That's a very great sin
too," said the girl "but not the greatest, the_greatest sins are
those against. God; for sins against human, beings we have the
confessional. When I confess the angel again stands behind
me in an instant, for when I commit a sin the devil comes
behind me, only I don't see him." And tired of being half in
earnest, she spun around light-heartedly on her heel and said:
"Look, there's nobody behind me." The boy spun around too
and saw me there. "Look," he said, without considering that
I must hear him, or perhaps without caring, "the devil is
standing behind me." " I see him too," replied the girl, "but
that's not the one I meant."

He_does not want consolation, yet not because he does not

want it-who does not want it?-but because to seek for
consolation would mean to devote his whole life to the task,
to live perpetually on the very frontiers of his existence, al-
 158
mos t outs ide it, bare ly kno win g for who m he was
seeking
con sola tion , and con sequ entl y not even capa ble
of finding
effective con sola tion , effective, not real cons olat ion,
for real
con sola tion doe s not exis t.

He fights agai nst hav ing his limi ts defi ned by his
fellow
men . No man , even if he be infa llibl e, can see mor
e than that
frac tion of his neig hbo r for whi ch his stre ngth and
kind of
visi on are ada pted . He has, how ever, like everybod
y, but in
its mos t extr eme form , the long ing to limi t him
self to the
lim it of his neigl1bor's eyes ight . Had Rob inso n Cru
soe never
left the high est, or, mor e corr ectl y, the mos t visib
le poin t
of his isla nd, from desi re for com fof4 or timi dity
, or fear, or
igno ranc e, or long ing, he wou ld soon hav e peri shed
; but since
with out pay ing any atte ntio n to pass ing ship s and
thei r feeble
tele scop es he star ted to exp lore the who le islan
d and take
plea sure in it, he man age d to keep him self alive
and finally
was foun d afte r all, by a cha in of caus ality that was,
of course,
logi call y inev itab le.

"Yo u mak e a virt ue of you r necessity ."

"In the first plac e ever yon e doe s that , and in the
second,
that 's just wha t I don 't do. I let my necessity rem
ain neces-
sity. I do not drai n the swa mp, but live in
its feverish
exh alat ions ."
"Th at's the very thin g you mak e a virtu e of."
" Like ever yon e as I said befo re. But I only do it
for your
sake. I take inju :r to my soul that you may rem
ain friendly
to me."

Eve ryth ing is allo wed him , exce pt self-oblivion, whe

rewith,
how ever , ever ythi. ng 1n
. · d
tum 1s en1e · d him
, exce pt the one
thin g nece ssar y at the give n mon 1en t for the whole.

I
 159
The question of c~nscien~e is a socia! imposition. All virtues
are individual, all vices socia! .. The things that pass as social
virtues, love, for example, disinterestedness, justice, self-sacri-
fice, are only "astonishingly" enfeebled social vices.

The difference b~tween the "Yes" and "Nop' that he says

to his contemporaries and t_hose that he should actually say,
might be likened to the difference between life and death,
and is just as vaguely divined by him.

The reason why posterity's judgment of individuals is juster

than the contemporary one lies in their being dead. One
develops in one's own style only after death, only when one
is alone. Death is to the individual like Saturday evening to
the chimney sweep; it washes the dirt from his body. 111en it
can be seen whether his contemporaries harmed him more,
or whether he did the more harm to his contemporaries; in
the latter case he was a great man.

The strength to deny, that most natural expression of the

perpetually changing, renewing, dying, reviving human fight-
ing organism, we possess always, but not the courage, al-
though life is denial, and therefore denial affirmation.

He does not die along with his dying thoughts. Dying is

merely a phenomenon within the inner world ( which re-
mains intact, even if it too should be only an idea), a natural
phenomenon like any other, neither happy nor sad.

The current against which he swims is so rapid that in

certain absent moods he is sometimes cast into despair by
the blank peace amid which he splashes, so infinitely far has
he been driven back in a moment of surrender.
160 "He"

He is thirsty, and is cut off from a spring by a mere clump

of bushes. But he is divided against himself: one part over-
looks the whole, sees that he is standing here and that the
spring is just beside him; but another part notices nothing,
has at most a divination that the first part sees all. But as he
notices nothing he cannot drink.

He is neither bold nor rash. But neither is he fearful. A

free life would not alarm him. Now he has never been granted
such a life, but that too causes him no anxiety, for he has
no anxiety of any kind about himself. There exists, however,
a Someone completely unknown to him, who has a great
and continuous anxiety for him-for him alone. This anxiety
of this Someone concerning him,. and in particular the con-
tinuousness of this anxiety, sometimes causes him torturing
headaches in his quieter hours.

A certain heaviness, a feeling of being secured against every

vicissitude, the vague assurance of a bed prepared for him
and belonging to him alone, keeps him from getting up; but
he is kept from lying still by an unrest which drives him
from his bed, by his conscience, the endle:ss beating of his
heart, the fear of death and the longing to refute it: all this
will not let him rest and he gets up again. This up and down
and a few fortuitous, desultory, irrelevant observations made
in the course of it, are his life.

He has two antagonists: The first pushes him from behind,

from his origin. The second blocks his road ahead. He strug-
gles with both. Actually the first supports him in his struggle
.
with the second, for the first wants to push him forward; and
in the same way the second supports him in his struggle ':"1t~
the first; for the second of course forces him back. But it 1s
only theoretically so. For it is not only the two protagonists
 161
s
e, bu t he hi m se lf as w el l, an d w ho really kn ow
who are ther b~ , he ha s a dr ea m th at
ev er th at m ay
his intentions? H ow w ou ld re qu ire, th ou gh ,
ti gu ar de. d m om en t- it
some .me in an un s ev er be en -h e will sp rin g ou t
ni gh t ha
a night as dark as no , on ac co un t of hi s expe-
e an d be pr om ot ed
f the fighting lin s.
w ar fa re , as ju dg e ov er hi s st ru gg lin g an ta go ni st
:e nc e of such
I

REFLECTIONS ON
SIN, PAIN, DOPE, AND
THE TRUE "7'AY•

I
THE TRU~ w AY goes over a rope which is not stretched at any
g:eat height but just above the ground. It seems more de-
signed to make people stumble than to be walked upon.

2
All human error is impatience, a premature renunciation
of method, a delusive pinning down of a delusion.

3
There are two cardinal sins from which all the others
spring: impatience and laziness. Because of impatience we
were driven out of Paradise, because of laziness we cannot
return. Perhaps, however, there is only one cardinal sin: im-

1 These aphorisms were carefully written out and numbere~ by

Kafka himself on separate pieces of paper. Where two aphonsms
have the same number they are written on the same sheet of paper.
Those marked with an asterisk were crossed out by Kafka, but not
removed from their place in the sequence.
162
 Reflections 163
. ce Because of impatience
pat1en · .
we were driven out because
,
of impatience we cannot return.

4
Many of the shades of the departed occupy themselves
with nothing but sipping the waves of the river of death, for
it comes from us and still has the salt savor of our seas. Then
the river turns in its loathing, flows backward, and sweeps the
dead into life again. They, however, are overjoyed, chant songs
of thanksgiving, and caress the indignant stream.

s
From a certain point onward there is no longer any turn-
ing back. That is the point that must be reached.

6
The decisive moment in human development is a continu-
ous one. For this reason the revolutionary movements which
declare everything before them to be null and void are in the
right, for nothing has yet happened.

7•
One of the Evil One's most effectual arts of seduction is
the challenge to battle. It is like the fight with woman, which
ends in bed.

8
A is greatly puffed up, he believes that he has made vast
progress in virtue, since, apparently because he is a more
challenging figure, he finds more and more temptations assail-
164 Reflections

ing him. from directions hitherto unknown to him. The real

explanation, however, is that a more powerful devil has tak
· f en
possession o him, and that the host of smaller devils have
run to serve the greater.

8
The diversi_ty of ideas which one can have, say, of an apple :
the apple as it appears to the child who must stretch his neck
so as barely to see it on the table, and the apple as it appears
to the master of the house who picks it up and lordly hands
it to his guest.

IO
A first sign of nascent knowledge is the desire for death.
This life seems unendurable, any other unattainable. One is
no longer ashamed of wishing to die; one prays to be con-
ducted from the old cell that one hates into a new one that
one has yet to hate. There is in this a vestige of faith that
during the change the Master may chance to walk along the
corridor, contemplate the prisoner, and say: "You must not
Jock up this one again. He is to come to me."

I 1•
If you were walking over a plain with the honest desire to
make progress, and yet found yourself further back than when
you started, then it would be a hopeless business; but as you
are clambering up a steep precipice, as steep, say, as you your-
self seen from below, your backward slips may only be caused
after all by the lie of the land, and you must not despair.
>
Reflections 165

12
.k a road in autumn: Hardly is it swept clean before it
Ll e
is covered again with dead leaves.

13
A cage went in search of a bird.

14
I have never been in this place before. One breathes dif-
ferently, a new star near the sun shines more blindingly than
the sun.

15
If it had been possible to build the Tower of Babel without
ascending it, the work would have been permitted.

16·
Do not let the Evil One persuade you that you can have
any secrets from him.

17
Leopards break into the temple and drink the sacrificial
chalices dry; this occurs repeatedly, again and again: finally
it can be reckoned upon beforehand and becomes a part of
the ceremony.
166 Re~ections

18

As firmly as the hand grips the stone But

. .
the hand' · •
firm merely that 1t may flm ' S gnp IS
g the stone the farther. Yet the road
leads also to that far place where the stone
falls.

19

You are the problem. No scholar to be found

far and wide.

20
From a real antagonist boundless courage flow
s into you.

21
Grasp your great good fortune that the grou
nd on which
you stand cannot be greater than the two feet
that cover it.

22
How can one be glad of the world, unless one
is flying to
it for refuge?

23 •
There are countless places of refuge, there_ is only
_one place
of salvation; but the possibilities of salvatio
n, agam, are as
numerous as all the places of refuge.

There 1s. a goa1, but no way·' what we call the way is

only
wavering.
 Reflections 167

24
What is laid upon us 1s to accomplish the negative; the
pasitive is already given.

25
Once we have granted accommodation to the Evil One he
no longer demands that we should believe him.

28
The afterthoughts with which you justify your accommo-
dation of the Evil One are not yours but those of the Evil
One.

The animal snatches the whip from its master and whips
itself so as to become master, and does not know that all this
is only a fantasy caused b y a new knot in the master's
whiplash.

27•
Virtue is 1n a certain sense disconsolate.

28
I do not strive for self-command. Self-command signifies
the will to operate at a certain fortuitous point in the endless
radiations of my spiritual existence. But if I must draw such
circles around me, then I will do it better b y remaining
passive in simple astonishment at the tremendous complex,
and will take away with me nothing but the strengthening
power which that spectacle gives b y contrast.
 168
Reflections

29
The crows maintain that a .
heavens. Doubtless that . smg]~ crow could destro}' the
th e Iieavens for the h is so, but 1t p .
. roves nothmg against
' eavens signify s· 1
of crows. rmp Y: the impossibilitv
J

30
The martyrs do not underestimate th b d
to be elevated on the cross In th t tl e o y; they cause it
enemies. · a ley are at one with their

31

His weariness is that of the gladiator after the combat· his

work was the whitewashing of a corner in a state offi~ial's
office.

32
There is no having, only being, only a being panting for its
last breath, panting to be choked out.

33
Formerly I could not understand why I received no answer
to my questions; today I cannot understand how I could have
believed I could question. But indeed I did not believe, I
simply questioned.

34
His reply to the assertion that he possesses perhaps, but
never is, was only a trembling and pounding of the heart.
 Reflections
169

35
A man was astonished_ how easily he went the eternal way;
he happened to be rushing backwards along it.

38
One cannot pay the Evil One in insta1Iments-and yet one
perpetually tries to do it.

It is conceivable that Alexander the Great, in spite of the

martial successes of his early days, in spite of the excellent
army that he had trained, in spite of the power he felt within
him to change the world, might have remained standing on
the bank of the He11espont and never have crossed it, and
not out of fear, not out of indecision, not out of infirmity
of will, but because of the mere weight of his own body.

37•
The road is endless, there is nothing that can be subtracted
from it or added to it, and yet everyone in sist s on a pplying
his own childish m easuring yard. " Yes, you will h ave t o go
the length of tha t m easuring yard as we11; it will n o t be for-
. . ,,
given you.

au•
Only our concept of T im e makes it possible for us to speak
of the Day of Judgmen t b y that name; in reality it is a
summary court in perpetual session.
170 Re~ections

39•
The disharmony o_f the world seems, comfortingly enough,
to be merely an anthmetical one.

40
Let the face that is filled with loathing and hate sink on
your breast.

41
The hunting dogs are still playing in the courtyard, but
the hare will not escape them, no matter how fast it may
already be flying through the woods.

42
You have harnessed yourself ridiculously for this world.

43
The more horses you yoke the quicker everything win go-
not the rending of the block from its foundation, which is
impossible, but the snapping of the traces and with that the
gay and empty journey.

44
The word "sein" signifies in German both things: to be,
and to belong to Him.
p
Reflections 171

45
The choice was put to them whether they would like to
be kings or king's couriers. Like children they all wanted to
be couriers. So now there are a great many couriers, they
ost through the world~ and, as there are no kings left, shout
io each other their meaningless and obsolete messages. They
would gladly put an end to their wretched lives, but they
dare not because of their oath of service.

48
Faith in progress does not mean faith that progress has
already been made. That would be no faith.

47
A is a virtuoso and the heavens are his witness.

48•
Man cannot live without an enduring trust in something
indestructible in himself. Yet while doing that he may all his
life be unaware of that indestructible thing and of his trust
in it. One of the possible ways in which this permanent un-
awareness may be expressed is to have faith in a personal God.

49•
The mediation of the serpent was necessary: Evil can se-
duce men, but it cannot become man.

so•
In the fight between you and the world back the world.
172
Re~ections

51
One must n t h
triumph. o c eat anybody, not even the world of its

52
There is only_ a_spiritual world; what we call the
physical
~orld is the evil m the spiritual one, and what we
call evil
1s only a necessary moment in our endless development.

In a light that is fierce and strong one can see the

world
dissolve. To weak eyes it becomes solid, to weak
er eves it
shows fists , before still weaker eyes it feels asha
med and
smites down him who dares to look at it.

53
AH is deception : one can try to live with the mini
mum
of illusion, take things as they are, or try to live
with the
maximum of i11usion. In the first case one betrays
good by
wanting to make its achievement too easy, and
evil by im-
posing overwhelmingly unfavorable fighting cond
itions upon
it. In the second case one betrays good by refusing
to stri\'e
towards it even on the earthly plane. In the third
case one
betrays good by sundering oneself as far as possible
from it,
and evil by hoping that through its ubiquity it may
be ren-
dered innocuous. From this it seems that the seco
nd course
is the one to be preferred, for in every case
one betrays
good, but in this case one does not betray evil,
at least in
appearance .
 Reffections 173

54
'fhere are questions which we could never ~et over if we
t delivered from them by the operation of nature.
were nO

55
For all things outside the physical world language can be
loved only as a sort of adumbration, but never with even
emproximate
' exactitude, smce
. m. accordance wit. h the physical
app f . d. .
world it treats only o possess10n an its connotations.

ss•
A man lies as little as he can only when he lies as little as
he can, not when he is given the smallest possible opportunity
to lie.

57•
A flight of steps which has not been hollowed out by many
feet is, from its own point of view, only a blank wooden
contraption that has been hammered together.

58
He who renounces the world must love all men, for he
renounces their world too. He begins from that point to
divine the true nature of mankind, which cannot but be
loved, providing that one is capable of it.

59•
If you love your neighbor within the world you do no
more and no less injustice than in loving yourself within the
 174 R efl.ections

world. 111e only question t hat remains JS whether the first is

possible .

60
The fact tha t there is only a spiritual world robs us o f hope
and gives us certainty.

61
Our a rt is a dazzled blind ness before the truth: The light
on the grotesqu e recoiling phiz is true, but noth ing e]se.

82
The expulsio n from Para d ise is in its m ain significa nce
eterna1: Conseq uently the expulsio n from P a radise is final,
and life in this world irrevoca ble, but t h e e ternal nature of
the occurren ce ( or, te1n poraIIy expressed, the eternal recapitu-
lation of the occurren ce) m akes it nevertheless possible t hat
not only could we live continu ously in Paradise, bu t that we
are continuo usly there in actua l fact, no m a t ter whe ther we
know it here or not.

63
He is a free and secure citizen of the world, for h e is fet-
tered to a chain which is Jong enough to give him the freedom
of all earthly space, and yet only so long that nothing ca n
drag him past the frontiers of the world. But simultan eously
he is a free and secure citizen of H eaven as we11, for he is
also fette red by a simila rly designed heavenly chain. So that
if he heads, say, for the earth, his heavenly collar th rottles
him, and if he heads for Heaven, his earthly one does the
same. And yet aJJ the possibili ties arc his, and he feels it;
 Refl ecti ons 175
more, he actu ally refu ses to acc oun t for the dea
dloc k by an
error in the orig inal fette ring .

64
He rushes afte r fact s like a nov ice on skat es,
a nov ice,
moreover, who is prac ticin g in a plac e whe re it
is forb idde n
to skate.

85
Wh at can be a grea ter sour ce of hap pine ss than
beli ef in
a hous ehol d god t

86
The oret ical ly ther e exis ts a perf ect poss ibili ty of
hap pine ss:
to beli eve in the inde stru ctib le elem ent in one
self and not
strive afte r it.

87
The inde stru ctib le is one ; it is eve ry hum an
bein g indi -
vidu ally and at the sam e tim e all hum an bein
gs coll ecti vely ;
hen ce the mar velo us indi ssol uble allia nce of man
kind .

&a •
The re exis t in the sam e hun 1an bein g vary ing
perc epti ons
of one and the sam e ob1e ct whi ch diff er so com
plet ely from
each othe r tl1a t one can only ded uce the exis tenc
e of diffe r-
ent subj ects in the sam e hum an bein g.
 176 Reflections

69
He eats the droppings from his own tab1e; thus he manages
to stuff himself fuller than the others for a little, but mean-
while he forgets how to eat from the table; thus in time
even the droppings cease to fa 11.

70
If that which is supposed to have been destroyed in Para-
dise was destructible, then it was not decisive; but if it was
indestructible, then we are living in a false belief.

71
Test yourself on humanity. It makes the doubtful doubt,
the believer believe.

72
That feeling: "Here I must not anchor''-and immediately
afterwards to feel the raging, rushing stream on every side
of you!

A revulsion. Watching, fearing, hoping, the answer steals

around the question, peers despairingly in her enign1atic face,
follows her through the maddest paths, that is the paths
leading farthest away from the answer.

73
Intercourse with human beings seduces one to self-con-
templation .
 Re fle ct io ns 17 7

74
es fr ee w he n it ce as es to be a pr op .
Th e sp iri t on ly be co m

75
d
an e lo ve ca n se em m or e su bl im e th a n sa cr e 1av e·' of
Pr . of
. ti · b t to its el f, it po s-
its el f 1t co u] d no t do ns , u as , un kn ow n
sa cr ed Jo ve , it ca n .
sesses an el em en t of

78•
e m an
ca nn ot kn ow its el f; th
T ru th is in di vi si
w ho de si re s to kn ow
bl e, th er ef or e
it m us t be fa lse . I
77
de si re w ha t is fu nd am en ta lly ha rm fu l to
hi m .
I
N o on e ca n pe rh ap s th ey al ways se em
do so -a nd
If in di vi du al s se em to d by th e fa ct th at in
ev ery
t ca n be ex pl ai ne
to do so -t ha e is on e se lf de sir in g so m e-
al be in g th er
ap pa re nt ly in di vi du th at se lf bu t very ha rm
fu l
fa ct is be ne fic ia l to
th in g w hi ch in or e or less to si t in ju dg m en t
ho is ca lle d m
to a se co nd se lf, w of th is
I . If th e hu m an be in g ha d ta ke n th e sid e
on th e ca se in g, an d no t af te r th e ca
se
ry be gi nn
I se co nd se lf fr om th e ve
se lf w ou ld ha ve be en an nu lle d, an d th e
w as ju dg ed , th e fir st
.
de si re al on g w ith hi m

78 m an ? W e we re no t
en t ov er th e fa ll of
\V hy do w e la m e Tr ee
of Pa ra di se be ca us e of it, bu t be ca us e of th
dr iv en ou t
no t ea t of it.
of Li fe , th at w e m ig ht
I
I
178 Refi.ections

79
W e are sinful not merely because we have eaten of the
Tree of Knowledge, but also because we have not yet eaten
of the Tree of Life. The state in which we find ourselves is
sinful, quite independent of guilt.

80
We were fashioned to live in Paradise, and Paradise was
destined to serve us. Our destiny has been altered; that this
has also happened with the destiny of Paradise is not stated.

81
Evil is a radiation of the human consciousness at certain
transitional stages. The physical world itself is not really an
illusion, but only its evil, which, however, admittedly con-
stitutes our picture of the physical world.

82
Since the Fall we have been essentially equal in our ca-
pacity to recognize good and evj}; none the less it is just here
that we seek to show our individual superiority. But the real
differences of worth begin beyond that knowledge. TI1e oppo-
site illusion may be explained thus : nobody can remain con-
tent with the mere knowledge of good and evil in itself, but
must endeavor as well to act in accordance with it. The
strength to do so, however,. is not likewise given him, conse-
quently he must destroy himself trying to do so, at the risk
of not achieving the necessary strength even then; yet there
remains nothing for him but this final attempt. (That is
moreover the meaning of the threat of death attached to
 Reflections 179
eating of the Tree of Know]edge; perhaps too it was the
original meaning of natura] death.) Now, faced with this
attempt, man is fi11ed with fear; he prefers to annu] his knowl-
edge of good and evil ( the term, "the fa]l of man," may be
traced back to that fear); yet the accomplished cannot be
annulled, but only confused. It was for this purpose that our
rationalizations were created. The whole world is full of
them, indeed the whole visible world is perhaps nothing more
than the rationalization of a man who wants to find peace for
a moment. An attempt to falsify the actuality of knowledge,
to regard knowledge as a goal still to be reached.

83
A faith like a guil1otine, as heavy, as light.

84
Death confronts us not unlike the historical battle scene
that hangs on the wall of the classroom. It is our task to
obscure or quite obliterate the picture by our deeds while we
are still in this world.

85
A man has freedom of will and a threefold freedom at that:
Firstly, he was free when he willed this life; now, it is true,
he cannot cancel that fact, for he is no longer the same man
who once willed it, except insofar as he is carrying out, by
the act of living, what he once willed.
Secondly, he is free in that he can choose the road he is to
take in this life and the manner in which he is to walk it.
Thirdly, he is free in that, as an entity which he will some
time be again, he has the desire to go through life no matter
what happens and so eventually find himself, following a
180 R eflectio ns

path which, though he can ch oose it, is yet so labyrinthine

that it leaves not a single inch of this life untouched.
111is is the threefo ld aspect of the freedom of the wi11 ,
but it is a]so, being simulta neous, a unity, and at bottom so
comple tely a unity that it leaves no room for a wi11, neither
for a free nor for an unfree one.

ao•
Two p ossibilities: to make oneself, or to be infinitesimally
small. The second is fulfillm ent, therefore inaction, the first
a beginn ing, therefo re action .

87•
To avoid an error in the use of words: ·w hat is to be de-
liberate ly destroyed must first have been quite soundly con-
served; what crumbl es, crumbl es, but cannot be destroyed.

88
The origina l worshi p of idols certain ly arose from a fear
of things, but that involve d a fear of the necessi ty of things,
and with that a fear of one's respon sibility for things. So vast
seemed this respon sibility that man did not even dare to lay
it on a single superh uman being; for by the mediat ion of one
being human respon sibility would not sti1l have been lightened
enough , interco urse with only one being would stilI have
been far too deeply tinged with respons ibility; so man en-
dowed every thing with respon sibility for itself, more, he en-
dowed every thing also with a limited respons ibility for man.

ao•
For the last time psychology!
 Refl.ections
181

uo•
Two tasks on the threshold of 11·fe •. T o narrow yo · 1
more and more, and constantly to make certain that ur c~rc e
not hidden yourself somewhere outside it. you ave

01•
Evil. js often
. . Jike a tool
_ · 1y or un-
in one's hand·, kno wing
~now1ngIy it wd) aUow itself to be laid aside without protest,
1f one only has the wiJJ.

92
The joys of this life are not its own, but our dread of ascend-
ing to a higher life; the torments of this life are not its own
but our se1f-torment because of that dread. '

93
Only here is suffering suffering. Not in the sense that those
who suffer here are ennobled somewhere else because of their
suffering, but in the sense that what is ca11ed suffering in this
wor1d is, without any alteration, except that it is freed from
its opposite, bliss in another.

94
One's idea of the infinite extent and ful1ness of the cosmos
is the reward of a combination of laborious crea tion and per-
fectly detached self-consciousness, both pushed to their utter-
most extremes.

-
 182 Reflections

95
Ho w mu ch mo re cru shi ng tha n the mo
st pitiless conviction
of our pre sen t sin ful sta t e is eve n the
feeblest conviction tha t
the re will be ete rna l jus tifi cat ion for
our temporal existen ce.
On ly our stre ngt h in sup por ting thi s
sec ond conviction, whi ch
in its pu rity com ple tely subsum es the
first, is the measure of
fai th.

Som e peo ple assum e tha t in add itio n

to the great original
bet ray al a sm all par ticu lar bet ray al has
bee n contrived in every
case exclusively for the m, tha t, in oth
er words, wh en a love
dra ma is bei ng per for me d on the stage
the leading act ress has
not onl y a pre ten ded sm ile for her
lover, bu t also a special
crafty sm ile for one par tic ula r spe cta
tor at the back of the
gallery . Th at is goi ng too far .

98
Knowledge of the diabolical the re can
be, bu t not belief in
it, for any thi ng mo re dia bol ical tha n
tha t could not exist.

97
Sin always comes ope nly, and can be
grasped at once by
the sen ses. It comes roo t and all, and
does not have to be
tor n up.

98
We too must suffer an the suffering aro
und us. Wh at each
of us possesses is not a body bu t a pro
cess of growth, and it
conducts us through every pain, in tJ1i
s form or in tha t. Just
as the child unfolds thr oug h aJJ the stag
es of life to old age
 Re fle cti on s 183

(an d ev ery sta ge see m s un att ain ab le to th e pre vio us

and death ep ly
e, wh eth er in fea r or lon gin g ) so we un fo ld ( no t less de
on
hu ma nit y th an to ou rse lve s) thr ou gh all th e suffer-
bound to
thi s wo rld . In thi s pro ce ss th er e is no pla ce for justice,
ings of ret a-
of su ffe rin g or for th e int erp
but no place eit he r for dr ea d
tion of suffering as a me rit .

99
u
e su ffe rin g of th e wo rld , yo
You ca n ho ld ba ck fro m th
pe rm iss ion to do so an d it is in ac co rd an ce wi th
have free on e
ur na tur e, bu t pe rh ap s thi s very ho ldi ng ba ck is th e
yo
av oid ed .
suffering th at yo u co uld ha ve

10 0
thi s wo rld em plo ys to sed uc e us , an d th e seal
111e me an s
wa rra nt th at thi s wo rld is on ly a pa ssi ng sta ge , are on e
of the rld
for on ly th us co uld thi s wo
an d the sa me . Ri gh tly so,
e us, an d be sid es it sq ua res wi th th e tru th . Th e wo rst of
sed uc
is th at af ter be in g su cc ess ful ly se du ce d we for ge t
it, ho we ve r, il,
wa rra nt an d so fin d ou rse lve s tem pt ed by go od int o ev
the
to he r be d.
tem pt ed by wo ma n's ey es in

IO I
y pro vid es ev ery on e, ev en th e lon ely an d de sp air ing ,
Hu mi lit
st rel ati on to his fel low me n, a rel ati on , too , th at
wi th th e fir me
tan tan eo us , th ou gh on ly if th e hu mi lity is co mp let e an d
is ins
t. It ca n do thi s be ca us e it is th e tru e lan gu ag e of
pe rm an en to
ye r, at on ce wo rsh ip an d fir me st un ion . Ou r rel ati on
pra
low m en is th at of pra ye r, ou r rel ati on to ourselves,
ou r fel e str en gth for effort.
; fro m pr ay er we dr aw th
th at of eff ort
 184 R eflections

C an yo u know an ything but .

i1Iusio n ? If o nce illusion
' Were
destroyed you would never dare to look back; you would b
turned into a pillar o f salt. e

102
E verybody feels very kindly towards A, somewhat as one
solicitously g uards an excel1ent billia rd table even from pass-
able players, until the great p layer arrives, carefuily examines
the cloth, refuses to countenance t h e slightest defect, but then,
when he himself b egins t o play, gives free and pitiless vent to
his fury.

103
"But then he returned to his work as if nothing had hap-
pened." That is a saying which sounds familiar to us from
an indefinite number of old tales, tho ugh in fact it perhaps
occurs in none.

104
"No one can say that we are wanting in faith . The mere
fact of our living is itself inexhaustib]e in its proof of fa ith."
"You call that a proof of faith? But one simply cannot not
live."
"In that very 'simply cannot' Jies the insane power of faith;
in that denial it embodies itself."

You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at

your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait. Do
not even wait, be quite stilJ and solitary. The world wi11 freely
offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will
roll in ecstasy at your feet.