A book is a suicide postponed. ― Emil Cioran Advertisements
We perceive first the anomaly of sheer existence, and only afterward that of our specific situation: the surprise of being precedes the surprise of being human. Yet the strange character of our state should constitute the primordial datum of our perplexities: it is less natural to be man than, simply, to be. We feel this… Continue reading Emil Cioran
The mission of every human being is to fulfill the lie he incarnates, to succeed in being no more than an exhausted illusion. — Emil Cioran, Anathemas And Admirations. (Arcade Publishing, September 15, 1998)
Every work turns against its author: the poem will crush the poet, the system the philosopher, the event the man of action. Destruction awaits anyone who, answering to his vocation and fulfilling it, exerts himself within history; only the man who sacrifices every gift and talent escapes: released from his humanity, he may lodge himself… Continue reading Emil Cioran
My soul is chaos, how can it be at all? There is everything in me: search and you will find out. I am a fossil dating from the beginning of the world: not all of its elements have completely crystallized, and initial chaos still shows through. I am absolute contradiction, climax of antinomies, the last… Continue reading Emil Cioran
Unreadability of this world. All doubles. The strong clocks back the fissure-hour, hoarsely. You, wedged into your deepest, climb out of yourself for ever. — Paul Celan, “Unreadability,” Paul Celan: Selections. (University of California Press, March 14th 2005)
The mission of Everyman is to fulfill the lies he incarnates, to succeed in being no more than an exhaust illusion. — Emil Cioran, Anathemas and Admirations. (Arcade Pub; 1st English language ed edition, May 1991) Originally published 1987.