Emil Cioran Quotes
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Beware of thinkers whose minds function only when they are fueled by a quotation.
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No one has the audacity to exclaim: 'I don’t want to do anything!' -we are more indulgent with a murderer than with a mind emancipated from actions.
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If each of us were to confess his most secret desire, the one that inspires all his plans, all his actions, he would say: "I want to be praised."
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Eternity is absence.
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He who hates himself is not humble.
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'Neither this world, nor the next, nor happiness are for the being abandoned to doubt.' - This point in the Gita is my death sentence.
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It is unjust to call imaginary the diseases which are, on the contrary, only too real, since they proceed from our mind, the only regulator of our equilibrium and our health.
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Criticism is a misconception: we must read not to understand others but to understand ourselves.
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No longer ask me for my program: isn't breathing one?
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The farther men get from God, the farther they advance into the knowledge of religions.
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Hungarian Language — savage it may be but of a beauty that has nothing human about it, with sonorities of another universe, powerful and corrosive, appropriate to prayer, to groans and to tears, risen out of hell to perpetuate its accent and its aura…words of nectar and cyanide.
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Transmitting one's flaws through procreation to someone else is a crime. I could never consent to give life to someone who would inherent my ailments.
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How easy it is to be "deep": all you have to do is let yourself sink into your own flaws.
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Existence would be a quite impracticable enterprise if we stopped granting importance to what has none.
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They ask you for facts, proofs, works, and all you can show them are transformed tears.
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There is always someone above you: beyond God Himself rises Nothingness.
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Only optimists commit suicide, the optimists who can no longer be...optimists. The others, having no reason to live, why should they have any to die?
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All that is Life in me urges me to give up God.
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When every man has realized that his birth is a defeat, existence, endurable at last, will seem like the day after a surrender, like the relief and the repose of the conquered.
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All philosophers should end their days at Pythia’s feet. There is only one philosophy, that of unique moments.
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The skepticism which fails to contribute to the ruin of our health is merely an intellectual exercise.
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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?
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Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.
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I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously?