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Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!

Emile M. Cioran

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Emile M. Cioran
Every
Affords
Would
Flowers
Flower
Sweet
Hear
Word
Pain
Death

More quotes by Emile M. Cioran

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Utopia is the grotesque en rose, the need to associate happiness - that is, the improbable - with becoming, and to coerce an optimistic, aerial vision to the point where it rejoins its own source: the very cynicism it sought to combat. In short, a monstrous fantasy.
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I have no nationality - the best possible status for an intellectual.
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Tolerance cannot seduce the young.
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A people represents not so much an aggregate of ideas and theories as of obsessions.
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Democracy: a festival of mediocrity.
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The desire to die was my one and only concern to it I have sacrificed everything, even death.
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I do not want to see BP nickel and diming these businesses that are having a tough time.
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The fear of your own solitude, of its vast surface and its infinity… Remorse is the voice of solitude. And what does this whispering voice say? Everything in us that is not human anymore.
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Basis of society: anonymous sweat.
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When we cannot be delivered from ourselves, we delight in devouring ourselves.
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As art sinks into paralysis, artists multiply. This anomaly ceases to be one if we realize that art, on its way to exhaustion, has become both impossible and easy.
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My mission is to see things as they are. Exactly contrary of a mission.
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Whenever I happen to be in a city of any size, I marvel that riots do not break out everyday: Massacres, unspeakable carnage, a doomsday chaos. How can so many human beings coexist in a space so confined without hating each other to death?
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In most cases we attach ourselves to in order to take revenge on life, to punish it, to signify we can do without it, that we have found something better, and we also attach ourselves to God in horror of men.
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How good would it be if one could die by throwing oneself into an infinite void.
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Melancholy: an appetite no misery satisfies.
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I lost my sleep, and this is the greatest tragedy that can befall someone. It is much worse than sitting in prison.
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When you have understood that nothing is, that things do not even deserve the status of appearances, you no longer need to be saved, you are saved, and miserable forever.
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If we manage to last in spite of everything, it is because our infirmities are so many and so contradictory that they cancel each other out.
Emile M. Cioran
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To live... in any sense of the word... is to reject others to accept them, one must renounce, do oneself violence.
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