There is no other world. Nor even this one. What, then, is there? The inner smile provoked in us by the patent nonexistence of both.— Emile M. Cioran
The most unconventional Emile M. Cioran quotes you will be delighted to read
Do I look like someone who has something to do here on earth?' —That's what I'd like to answer the busybodies who inquire into my activities.
By all evidence we are in the world to do nothing.
You are done for - a living dead man - not when you stop loving but stop hating.
Hatred preserves: in it, in its chemistry, resides the mystery of life.
The aphorism is cultivated only by those who have known fear in the midst of words, that fear of collapsing with all the words.
Paradise was unendurable, otherwise the first man would have adapted to it;
this world is no less so, since here we regret paradise or anticipate another one. What to do? Where to go? Do nothing and go nowhere, easy enough.
The multiplication of our kind borders on the obscene; the duty to love them, on the preposterous.
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?
Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself.
Better to be an animal than a man, an insect than an animal, a plant than an insect, and so on. Salvation? Whatever diminishes the kingdom of consciousness and compromises its supremacy.
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.
Ideas should be neutral. But man animates them with his passions and folly. Impure and turned into beliefs, they take on the appearance of reality. The passage from logic is consummated. Thus are born ideologies, doctrines, and bloody farce.
Life creates itself in delirium and is undone in ennui.
The need for novelty is the characteristic of an alienated gorilla.
Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.
I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.
The sole means of protecting your solitude is to offend everyone, beginning with those you love.
To accomplish nothing and die of the strain
History is nothing but a procession of false Absolutes, a series of temples raised to pretexts, a degradation of the mind before the Improbable.
No one recovers from the disease of being born, a deadly wound if there ever was one.
In a republic, that paradise of debility, the politician is a petty tyrant who obeys the laws.
To live... in any sense of the word... is to reject others; to accept them, one must renounce, do oneself violence.
Democracy: a festival of mediocrity.
Not to be born is undoubtedly the best plan of all. Unfortunately, it is within no one's reach.
I never met one interesting mind that was not richly endowed with inadmissible deficiencies.
Hungarian Language — savage it may be but of a beauty that has nothing human about it, with sonorities of another universe, powerful and corrosive, appropriate to prayer, to groans and to tears, risen out of hell to perpetuate its accent and its aura…words of nectar and cyanide.
Man starts over again everyday, in spite of all he knows, against all he knows.
It is because we are all impostors that we endure each other.
The man who does not consent to lie will see the earth shrink under his feet: we are biologically obliged to the false
No one can enjoy freedom without trembling.
Sometimes I wish I were a cannibal – less for the pleasure of eating someone than for the pleasure of vomiting him.
Imaginary pains are by far the most real we suffer, since we feel a constant need for them and invent them because there is no way of doing without them.
Write books only if you are going to say in them the things you would never dare confide to anyone.
The amount of chiaroscuro an idea harbors is the only index of its profundity.
What strangely enchanted tunes gush forth during those sleepless nights!
Life inspires more dread than death - it is life which is the great unknown.
The only free mind is one that, pure of all intimacy with beings or objects, plies its own vacuity.
We define only out of despair, we must have a formula... to give a facade tot he void.
Wherever we go, we come up against the human, a repulsive ubiquity before which we fall into stupor and revolt, a perplexity on fire.
There was a time when time did not yet exist.
One cannot live without motives. I have no motives left, and I am living.
Psychoanalysis is a technique we practice at our cost;
psychoanalysis degrades our risks, our dangers, our depths; it strips us of our impurities, of all that made us curious about ourselves.
Between Ennui and Ecstasy unwinds our whole experience of time.
Ambition is a drug that makes its addicts potential madmen.
Philosophy is a corrective against sadness.
Yet there still are people who believe in the profundity of philosophy!
Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?
Knowledge subverts love: in proportion as we penetrate our secrets, we come to loathe our kind, precisely because they resemble us.
Everything is pathology, except for indifference.
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.
However much I have frequented the mystics, deep down I have always sided with the Devil; unable to equal him in power, I have tried to be worthy of him, at least, in insolence, acrimony, arbitrariness and caprice.
The desire to die was my one and only concern; to it I have sacrificed everything, even death.