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.
After having struggled madly to solve all problems, after having suffered on the heights of despair, in the supreme hour of revelation, you will find that the only answer, the only reality, is silence. — Emil Cioran, On the Heights of Despair, (University Of Chicago Press,1996)
Any and all water is the color of drowning. — Emil Cioran, All Gall Is Divided: Aphorisms. (Arcade Publishing August 25, 1999) Originally published 1952.
Time is heavy sometimes; imagine how heavy eternity must be. — Emil Cioran, The Book of Delusions. (1936)
This is how I recognize an authentic poet: by frequenting him, living a long time in the intimacy of his work, something changes in myself, not so much my inclinations or my tastes as my very blood, as if a subtle disease had been injected to alter its course, its density and nature. To live… Continue reading Emil Cioran
Life is not, and death is a dream. Suffering has invented them both as self-justification. Man alone is torn between an unreality and an illusion. — Emil Cioran, Tears and Saints. (University Of Chicago Press; Reprint edition July 6, 1998) Originally published 1937.
I feel that I am dying of solitude, of love, of despair, of hatred, of all that this world offers me. With every experience I expand like a balloon blown up beyond its capacity. The most terrifying intensification bursts into nothingness. You grow inside, you dilate madly until there are no boundaries left, you reach… Continue reading Emil Cioran