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I do not forgive myself for being born. It is as if creeping into this world, I had profaned a mystery, betrayed some momentous pledge, committed a fault of nameless gravity.

Emile M. Cioran

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Emile M. Cioran
Born
Betrayed
World
Gravity
Fault
Forgive
Profaned
Forgiving
Momentous
Faults
Creeping
Committed
Nameless
Mystery
Pledge

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Word - that invisible dagger.
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Society: an inferno of saviors!
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Woes and wonders of power, that tonic hell, synthesis of poison and panacea.
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He who has never envied the vegetable has missed the human drama.
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Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?
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What surrounds us we endure better for giving it a name - and moving on.
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Death makes no sense except to people who have passionately loved life. How can one die without having something to part from? Detachment is a negation of both life and death. Whoever has overcome his fear of death has also triumphed over life. For life is nothing but another word for this fear.
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My mission is to kill time, and time's to kill me in its turn. How comfortable one is among murderers.
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We are so lonely in life that we must ask ourselves if the loneliness of dying is not a symbol of our human existence.
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Only optimists commit suicide, optimists who no longer succeed at being optimists. The others, having no reason to live, why would they have any to die?
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The only way of enduring one disaster after the next is to love the very idea of disaster: if we succeed, there are no further surprises, we are superior to whatever occurs, we are invincible victims.
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We are all deep in a hell each moment of which is a miracle.
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A man who fears ridicule will never go far, for good or ill: he remains on this side of this talents, and even if he has genius, he is doomed to mediocrity.
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The wise man, the sage, is hostile to the new. Disabused, he abdicates: that is his form of protest.
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Reality is a creation of our excesses.
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Life without utopia is suffocating, for the multitude at least: threatened otherwise with petrifaction, the world must have a new madness.
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