#Cioran

[tamurakafkaposts]

I don’t understand why we must do things in this world, why we must have friends and aspirations, hopes and dreams. Wouldn’t it be better to retreat to a faraway corner of the world, where all its noise and complications would be heard no more? Then we could renounce culture and ambitions; we would lose everything and gain nothing; for what is there to be gained from this world?

Emil Cioran

[nicklloydnow]

“Only music can create an indestructible complicity between two persons. A passion is perishable, it decays, like everything that partakes of life, whereas music is of an essence superior to life and, of course, to death. “ - Emil Cioran, ‘Anathemas and Admirations’ (1986)

[grandpasessions]

All my life I have thought about death and now that I am approaching it I realize that it was of no use to me to have thought about it so much, and that it would have been much more profitable for me to not worry about it. The thought of death does not help you die.

Notebooks Emil Cioran

[prosedumonde]

Je ne lutte pas contre le monde, je lutte contre une force plus grande, contre ma fatigue du monde.

Emil Cioran, Ébauches du vertige

[adz]

"So long as we feel well, we do not exist. More exactly: we do not know that we exist. The sick man longs for the nothingness of health, the ignorance of being: he is exasperated to know at every moment that he faces the entire universe, with no means of belonging to it, of losing himself within it. His ideal would be to forget everything and, relieved of his past, to wake up one fine day naked before the future."

E.M. Cioran, On Sickness

[leggerezza-dell-essere]

Gli uomini seguono soltanto chi regala loro illusioni. Non ci sono mai stati assembramenti intorno a un disilluso.

Emil Cioran

[savasbitti]

"insan, felaket salgılar"

cioran

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Old age, after all, is merely the punishment for having lived.

Emil Cioran

[c-etait-ailleurs]

Nous sommes tous au fond d'un enfer dont chaque instant est un miracle.

Emil Cioran, Le mauvais démiurge, Œuvres p. 1259

[philosophors]

“He who has never envied the vegetable has missed the human drama.”

— Emil Cioran, “The Fall Into Time”

[sasomienspegel]

To be free is to emancipate oneself from the pursuit of a destiny, to give up belonging to either the chosen or the outcast; to be free is to practice being nothing

Emil Cioran, The Fall Into Time

[empirearchives]

“Each generation raises monuments to the executioners of the one which preceded it.”

— E. M. Cioran in his essay on Napoleon, the executioner of the 18th century world. From “Ennui of Conquerors” in A Short History of Decay

[nicklloydnow]

Anna Laughlin (Dorothy) and Arthur Hill (Cowardly Lion) in the 1902 ‘The Wizard of Oz‘ musical

“Every act of courage is the work of an unbalanced man. Animals, normal by definition, are always cowardly except when they know themselves to be stronger, which is cowardice itself.” - Emil Cioran, ‘Drawn and Quartered’ (1979) [p. 87]

[grandpasessions]

It is more likely that the future will belong to the sub-human rather than the superman. It is ridiculous to speak of a superman, since man has been surpassing himself since he existed, tearing himself away from his origins; but he only breaks away from it to fall back into it, and when he is the furthest from his beginnings, that is when he will fall lower than he has ever been. He will pay dearly for his desire to rise and surpass himself.  I see man shrinking more and more, until there is nothing left of him.

Notebooks Emil Cioran

[prosedumonde]

L’espoir est la forme normale du délire.

Emil Cioran, Ébauches du vertige

[adz]

“Whatever his merits, a man in good health is always disappointing. Impossible to grant any credence to what he says, to regard his phrases as anything but excuses, acrobatics. The experience of the terrible - which alone confers a certain density upon our words - is what he lacks, as he lacks, too, the imagination of disaster, without which no one can communicate with those separate beings, the sick. It is true that if he possessed that experience he would no longer be in good health. Having nothing to transmit, neutral to the point of abdication, he collapses into well-being, an insignificant state of perfection, of impermeability to death as well as of inattention to oneself and to the world. As long as he remains there, he is like the objects around him; once torn from it, he opens himself to everything, knows everything: the omniscience of terror.”

E.M. Cioran, On Sickness