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Consider Love: Is There A Nobler Outpouring, A Rapture Less Suspect? Its Shudders Rival Music, Compete With The Tears Of Solitude And Of Ecstasy: Sublime...but A Sublimity Inseperable From The Urinary Tract: Transports Bordering Upon Excretion, A Heaven Of The Glands, Sudden Sancitity Of The Orifices. It Takes No More Than A Moment Of Attention For This Intoxication, Shaken, To Cast You Back Into The Ordures Of Physiology Or A Moment Of Fatigue To Recognize That So Much Ardor Produces Only A Variety Of Mucous.

-Emile M. Cioran

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Consider Love: Is There

Emile M. Cioran

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Consider Love: Is There A Nobler Outpouring, A Rapture Less Suspect? Its Shudders Rival Music, Compete With The Tears Of Solitude And Of Ecstasy: Sublime...but A Sublimity Inseperable From The Urinary Tract: Transports Bordering Upon Excretion, A Heaven Of The Glands, Sudden Sancitity Of The Orifices. It Takes No More Than A Moment Of Attention For This Intoxication, Shaken, To Cast You Back Into The Ordures Of Physiology Or A Moment Of Fatigue To Recognize That So Much Ardor Produces Only A Variety Of Mucous.

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The Deepest Subjective Experiences Are Also The Most Universal, Because Through Them One Reaches The Universal Source Of Life.

The More One Has Suffered, The Less One Demands. To Protest Is A Sign One Has Traversed No Hell.

I Live Only Because It Is In My Power To Die When I Choose To: Without The Idea Of Suicide, I'd Have Killed Myself Right Away.

Nothing Sweeter Than To Drag Oneself Along Behind Events; And Nothing More Reasonable. But Without A Strong Dose Of Madness, No Initiative, No Enterprise, No Gesture. Reason: The Rust Of Our Vitality. It Is The Madman In Us Who Forces Us To Adventure; Once He Abandons Us, We Are Lost; Everything Depends On Him, Even Our Vegetative Life; It Is He Who Invites Us, Who Obliges Us To Breathe, And It Is Also He Who Forces Our Blood To Venture Through Our Veins. Once He Withdraws, We Are Alone Indeed! We Cannot Be Normal And Alive At The Same Time.

Man Must Vanquish Himself, Must Do Himself Violence, In Order To Perform The Slightest Action Untainted By Evil.

Consciousness Is Nature's Nightmare.

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That History Just Unfolds, Independently Of A Specified Direction, Of A Goal, No One Is Willing To Admit.

What Is Pity But The Vice Of Kindness.

What I Know At Sixty, I Knew As Well At Twenty. Forty Years Of A Long, Superfluous, Labor Of Verification.

In Every Man Sleeps A Prophet, And When He Wakes There Is A Little More Evil In The World.

There Is No Limit To Suffering.

To Read Is To Let Someone Else Work For You - The Most Delicate Form Of Exploitation.

Only Superficial Minds Approach An Idea With Delicacy.

A Civilization Is Destroyed Only When Its Gods Are Destroyed.

Utopia Is A Mixture Of Childish Rationalism And Secularized Angelism.

Boredom Dismantles The Mind, Renders It Superficial, Out At The Seams, Saps It From Within And Dislocates It.

Life Is Merely A Fracas On An Unmapped Terrain, And The Universe A Geometry Stricken With Epilepsy.

This Very Second Has Vanished Forever, Lost In The Anonymous Mass Of The Irrevocable. It Will Never Return. I Suffer From This And I Do Not. Everything Is Unique - And Insignificant.

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I Would Like To Explode, Flow, Crumble Into Dust, And My Disintegration Would Be My Masterpiece.

What Can Be Said, Lacks Reality. Only What Fails To Make Its Way Into Words Exists And Counts.

Under Each Formula Lies A Corpse.

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By All Evidence We Are In The World To Do Nothing.

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What Do You Do From Morning To Night?" "i Endure Myself.

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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.

Man Starts Over Again Everyday, In Spite Of All He Knows, Against All He Knows.

Fear Can Supplant Our Real Problems Only To The Extent -unwilling Either To Assimilate Or To Exhaust It -we Perpetuate It Within Ourselves Like A Temptation And Enthrone It At The Very Heart Of Our Solitude.

Show Me One Thing Here On Earth Which Has Begun Well And Not Ended Badly. The Proudest Palpitations Are Engulfed In A Sewer, Where They Cease Throbbing, As Though Having Reached Their Natural Term: This Downfall Constitutes The Heart's Drama And The Negative Meaning Of History.

A Civilization Begins To Decline The Moment Life Becomes Its Sole Obsession.

As Long As One Believes In Philosophy, One Is Healthy; Sickness Begins When One Starts To Think.

No Human Beings Are More Dangerous Than Those Who Have Suffered For A Belief

To Live Signifies To Believe And Hope - To Lie And To Lie To Oneself.

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Beware Of Thinkers Whose Minds Function Only When They Are Fueled By A Quotation.

Each Concession We Make Is Accompanied By An Inner Diminution Of Which We Are Not Immediately Conscious.

I Don’t Understand How People Can Believe In God, Even When I Myself Think Of Him Everyday.

As Far As I Am Concerned, I Resign From Humanity. I No Longer Want To Be, Nor Can Still Be, A Man. What Should I Do? Work For A Social And Political System, Make A Girl Miserable? Hunt For Weaknesses In Philosophical Systems, Fight For Moral And Esthetic Ideals? It’s All Too Little. I Renounce My Humanity Even Though I May Find Myself Alone. But Am I Not Already Alone In This World From Which I No Longer Expect Anything?

The Art Of Love: Knowing How To Combine The Temperament Of A Vampire With The Discretion Of An Anemone.

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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The Refutation Of Suicide: Is It Not Inelegant To Abandon A World Which Has So Willingly Put Itself At The Service Of Our Melancholy?

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A Great Step Forward Was Made The Day Men Understood That In Order To Torment One Another More Efficiently They Would Have To Gather Together, To Organize Themselves Into A Society

Discretion Is Deadly To Genius; Ruinous To Talent.

A Self-respecting Man Is A Man Without A Country. A Fatherland Is Birdlime.

To Get Up In The Morning, Wash And Then Wait For Some Unforeseen Variety Of Dread Or Depression. I Would Give The Whole Universe And All Of Shakespeare For A Grain Of Ataraxy.

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Man Is A Robot With Defects.

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No One Can Keep His Griefs In Their Prime; They Use Themselves Up.

Knowledge Subverts Love: In Proportion As We Penetrate Our Secrets, We Come To Loathe Our Kind, Precisely Because They Resemble Us.

My Mission Is To Kill Time, And Time's To Kill Me In Its Turn. How Comfortable One Is Among Murderers.

Impossible To Spend Sleepless Nights And Accomplish Anything: If, In My Youth, My Parents Had Not Financed My Insomnias, I Should Surely Have Killed Myself.

Sometimes I Wish I Were A Cannibal – Less For The Pleasure Of Eating Someone Than For The Pleasure Of Vomiting Him.

The Fanatic Is Incorruptible: If He Kills For An Idea, He Can Just As Well Get Himself Killed For One; In Either Case, Tyrant Or Martyr, He Is A Monster.

By What Aberration Has Suicide, The Only Truly Normal Action, Become The Attribute Of The Flawed?

Existing Is Plagiarism.

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.

To Think Is To Take A Cunning Revenge In Which We Camouflage Our Baseness And Conceal Our Lower Instincts.

How Important Can It Be That I Suffer And Think? My Presence In This World Will Disturb A Few Tranquil Lives And Will Unsettle The Unconscious And Pleasant Naiveté Of Others. Although I Feel That My Tragedy Is The Greatest In History - Greater Than The Fall Of Empires - I Am Nevertheless Aware Of My Total Insignificance. I Am Absolutely Persuaded That I Am Nothing In This Universe; Yet I Feel That Mine Is The Only Real Existence.

Normal People Have Nothing To Forget.

Wisdom Disguises Our Wounds; It Teaches Us How To Bleed In Secret.

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.

Progress Is The Injustice Each Generation Commits With Regard To Its Predecessors.

Once You See That Everything Is Unreal, You Can't See Why You Should Bother To Prove It.

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.

Read Day And Night, Devour Books - These Sleeping Pills - Not To Know But To Forget! Through Books You Can Retrace Your Way Back To The Origins Of Spleen, Discarding History And Its Illusions.

Doubt Works Deep Within You Like A Disease Or, Even More Effectively, Like A Faith.

There Is No Means Of Proving It Is Preferable To Be Than Not To Be.

The Wise Man, The Sage, Is Hostile To The New. Disabused, He Abdicates: That Is His Form Of Protest.

Skepticism Is The Sadism Of Embittered Souls.

When We Cannot Be Delivered From Ourselves, We Delight In Devouring Ourselves.

To Venture Upon An Undertaking Of Any Kind, Even The Most Insignificant, Is To Sacrifice To Envy.

We Are So Lonely In Life That We Must Ask Ourselves If The Loneliness Of Dying Is Not A Symbol Of Our Human Existence.

I'm Simply An Accident. Why Take It All So Seriously?

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.

Every Thought Derives From A Thwarted Sensation.

If There Is Anyone Who Owes Everything To Bach, It Is Certainly God.

I Try--without Success--to Stop Finding Reasons For Vanity In Anything. When I Happen To Manage It Nonetheless, I Feel That I No Longer Belong To The Mortal Gang. I Am Above Everything Then, Above The Gods Themselves. Perhaps That Is What Death Is: A Sensation Of Great, Of Extreme Superiority.

The Sole Means Of Protecting Your Solitude Is To Offend Everyone, Beginning With Those You Love.

The More We Try To Rest Ourselves From Our Egos, The Deeper We Sink Into It.

Ambition Is A Drug That Makes Its Addicts Potential Madmen.

Knowledge, Having Irritated And Stimulated Our Appetite For Power, Will Lead Us Inexorably To Our Ruin.

The Reaction Against Your Own Thought In Itself Lends Life To Thought. How This Reaction Is Born Is Hard To Describe, Because It Identifies With The Very Rare Intellectual Tragedies. The Tension, The Degree And Level Of Intensity Of A Thought Proceeds From Its Internal Antinomies, Which In Turn Are Derived From The Unsolvable Contradictions Of A Soul. Thought Cannot Solve The Contradictions Of The Soul. As Far As Linear Thinking Is Concerned, Thoughts Mirror Themselves In Other Thoughts, Instead Of Mirroring A Destiny.

Speech And Silence. We Feel Safer With A Madman Who Talks Than With One Who Cannot Open His Mouth.

If Truth Were Not Boring, Science Would Have Done Away With God Long Ago. But God As Well As The Saints Is A Means To Escape The Dull Banality Of Truth.

Try To Be Free: You Will Die Of Hunger.

He Who Has Never Envied The Vegetable Has Missed The Human Drama.

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Insomnia Is A Vertiginous Lucidity That Can Convert Paradise Itself Into A Place Of Torture.

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The Truly Solitary Being Is Not The Man Who Is Abandoned By Men, But The Man Who Suffers In Their Midst, Who Drags His Desert Through The Marketplace And Deploys His Talents As A Smiling Leper, A Mountebank Of The Irreparable.

Reality Is A Creation Of Our Excesses.

Never To Have Occasion To Take A Position, To Make Up One's Mind, Or To Define Oneself - There Is No Wish I Make More Often.

Transmitting One's Flaws [through Procreation] To Someone Else Is A Crime. I Could Never Consent To Give Life To Someone Who Would Inherent My Ailments.

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The Curtain Of The Universe Is Moth-eaten, And Through Its Holes We See Nothing Now But Mask And Ghost.

To Claim You Are More Detached, More Alien To Everything Than Anyone, And To Be Merely A Fanatic Of Indifference!

Jealousy - That Jumble Of Secret Worship And Ostensible Aversion.

Vague A L'ame - Melancholy Yearning For The End Of The World.

How Easy It Is To Be "deep": All You Have To Do Is Let Yourself Sink Into Your Own Flaws.

A Book Has To Dig Through The Wounds, More, It Has Cause A New One, A Book It Has To Be Dangerous.

He Who Hates Himself Is Not Humble.

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.

We Inhabit A Language Rather Than A Country.

The Need For Novelty Is The Characteristic Of An Alienated Gorilla.

Only Those Moments Count, When The Desire To Remain By Yourself Is So Powerful That You'd Prefer To Blow Your Brains Out Than Exchange A Word With Someone.

We Have Convictions Only If We Have Studied Nothing Thoroughly.

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.

I Feel Completely Detached From Any Country, Any Group. I Am A Metaphysically Displaced Person

The History Of Ideas Is The History Of The Grudges Of Solitary Men.

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

We Change Ideas Like Neckties.

The Fear Of Being Deceived Is The Vulgar Version Of The Quest For Truth.

So Long As Man Is Protected By Madness - He Functions - And Flourishes.

On Creating — What We Crave, What We Want To See In Others Eyes, Is That Servile Expression, An Unconcealed Infatuation With Our Gestures.

Each Of Us Must Pay For The Slightest Damage He Inflicts Upon A Universe Created For Indifference And Stagnation, Sooner Or Later, He Will Regret Not Having Left It Intact.

I Have Tried To Protect Myself Against Men, To React Against Their Madness To Discern Its Source; I Have Listened And I Have Seen--and I Have Been Afraid Of Acting For The Same Motives Or For Any Motive Whatever, Of Believing In The Same Ghosts Or In Any Other Ghost, Of Letting Myself Be Engulfed By The Same Intoxications Or By Some Other... Afraid, In Short, Of Raving In Common And Of Expiring In A Horde Of Ecstasies.

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