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All people see fires, storms, explosions, or landscapes but how many feel the flames, the lightnings, the whirlwinds, or the harmony? How many have an inner beauty that tinges their melancholy?

Emile M. Cioran

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Emile M. Cioran
People
Storm
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I never met one interesting mind that was not richly endowed with inadmissible deficiencies.
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Thinking should be like musical meditation. Has any philosopher pursued a thought to its limits the way Bach or Beethoven develop and exhaust a musical theme? Even after having read the most profound thinkers, one still feels the need to begin anew. Only music gives definitive answers.
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Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?
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Sometimes I wish I were a cannibal – less for the pleasure of eating someone than for the pleasure of vomiting him.
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If you lack the power to demoralize yourself along with the age, to go as low and as far, do not complain of being misunderstood by it.
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True contact between beings is established only by mute presence, by apparent non-communication, by that mysterious and wordless exchange which resembles inward prayer.
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Life is possible only by the deficiencies of our imagination and memory.
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It is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late.
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Great persecutors are recruited among martyrs whose heads haven't been cut off.
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The source of our actions resides in an unconscious propensity to regard ourselves as the center, the cause, and the conclusion of time. Our reflexes and our pride transform into a planet the parcel of flesh and consciousness we are.
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Old age, after all, is merely the punishment for having lived.
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Try to be free: you will die of hunger.
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Our first intuitions are the true ones.
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The fact that life has no meaning is a reason to live - moreover, the only one.
Emile M. Cioran
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At this very moment, I am suffering—as we say in French, j’ai mal. This event, crucial for me, is nonexistent, even inconceivable for anyone else, for everyone else. Except for God, if that word can have a meaning.
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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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How good would it be if one could die by throwing oneself into an infinite void.
Emile M. Cioran
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Just as ecstasy purifies you of the particular and the contingent, leaving nothing except light and darkness, so insomnia kills off the multiplicity and diversity of the world, leaving you prey to your private obsessions.
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Not to be born is undoubtedly the best plan of all. Unfortunately, it is within no one's reach.
Emile M. Cioran
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A golden rule: to leave an incomplete image of oneself.
Emile M. Cioran