Emil Cioran Quotes
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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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Everything is nothing, including the consciousness of nothing.
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Who Rebels? Who rises in arms? Rarely the slave, but almost always the oppressor turned slave.
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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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They ask you for facts, proofs, works, and all you can show them are transformed tears.
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Having destroyed all my connections, burned my bridges, I should feel a certain freedom, and in fact I do. One so intense I am afraid to rejoice in it.
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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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'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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We understand God by everything in ourselves that is fragmentary, incomplete, and inopportune.
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Love of the absolute engenders a predilection for self-destruction. Hence the passion for monasteries and brothels. Cells and women, in both cases. Weariness with life fares well in the shadow of whores and saintly women.
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The farther men get from God, the farther they advance into the knowledge of religions.
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No matter which way we go, it is no better than any other. It is all the same whether you achieve something or not, have faith or not, just as it is all the same whether you cry or remain silent.
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How good would it be if one could die by throwing oneself into an infinite void.
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Everything exists; nothing exists. Either formula affords a like serenity. The man of anxiety, to his misfortune, remains between them, trembling and perplexed, forever at the mercy of a nuance, incapable of gaining a foothold in the security of being or in the absence of being.
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Psychoanalysis is a technique we practice at our cost; psychoanalysis degrades our risks, our dangers, our depths; it strips us of our impurities, of all that made us curious about ourselves.
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The ideal being? An angel ravaged by humor.
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By virtue of depression, we recall those misdeeds we buried in the depths of our memory. Depression exhumes our shames.
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There is not much difference between a mortal man and a dying man. The absurdity of making plans is only slightly more obvious in the second case.
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The reasons for persisting in Being seem less and less well founded, and our successors will find it easier than we to be rid of such obstinacy.
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That history just unfolds, independently of a specified direction, of a goal, no one is willing to admit.
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Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed myself.
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No one recovers from the disease of being born, a deadly wound if there ever was one.
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I'm simply an accident. Why take it all so seriously?
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To try curing someone of a 'vice,' of what is the deepest thing he has, is to attack his very being, and this is indeed how he himself understands it, since he will never forgive you for wanting him to destroy himself in your way and not his.