Background Image

...

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

-Emile M. Cioran

...

Please Wait....
Translating....

The Need For Novelty

Emile M. Cioran

...

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

Views: 10

Topic

More From Emile M. Cioran

Tyrants Are Always Assassinated Too Late. That Is Their Great Excuse.

Good Health Is The Best Weapon Against Religion. Healthy Bodies And Healthy Minds Have Never Been Shaken By Religious Fears.

Tolerance Cannot Seduce The Young.

A People Represents Not So Much An Aggregate Of Ideas And Theories As Of Obsessions.

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

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

A Garbled Quotation Is Equivalent To A Betrayal, An Insult, A Prejudice.

Between The Demand To Be Clear,and The Temptation To Be Obscure, Impossible To Decide Which Deserves More Respect.

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

Alone, Even Doing Nothing, You Do Not Waste Your Time. You Do, Almost Always, In Company. No Encounter With Yourself Can Be Altogether Sterile: Something Necessarily Emerges, Even If Only The Hope Of Some Day Meeting Yourself Again.

What Pride To Discover That Nothing Belongs To You - What A Revelation.

By All Evidence We Are In The World To Do Nothing; But Instead Of Nonchalantly Promenading Our Own Corruption, We Exude Our Sweat And Grow Winded Upon The Fetid Air.

Mind, Even More Deadly To Empires Than To Individuals, Erodes Them, Compromises Their Solidity.

If Each Of Us Were To Confess His Most Secret Desire, The One That Inspires All His Plans, All His Actions, He Would Say: "i Want To Be Praised."

Espousing The Melancholy Of Ancient Symbols, I Would Have Freed Myself.

Life Without Utopia Is Suffocating, For The Multitude At Least: Threatened Otherwise With Petrifaction, The World Must Have A New Madness.

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

My Mission Is To Suffer For All Those Who Suffer Without Knowing It. I Must Pay For Them, Expiate Their Unconsciousness, Their Luck To Be Ignorant Of How Unhappy They Are.

A Regret Understood By No One: The Regret To Be A Pessimist. It’s Not Easy To Be On The Wrong Foot With Life.

The Premonition Of Madness Is Complicated By The Fear Of Lucidity In Madness, The Fear Of The Moments Of Return And Reunion... One Would Welcome Chaos If One Were Not Afraid Of Lights In It.

We Interest Others By The Misfortune We Spread Around Us.

In Order To Have The Stuff Of A Tyrant, A Certain Mental Derangement Is Necessary.

Losing Love Is So Rich A Philosophical Ordeal That It Makes A Hairdresser Into A Rival Of Socrates.

Discretion Is Deadly To Genius; Ruinous To Talent.

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.

No One Recovers From The Disease Of Being Born, A Deadly Wound If There Ever Was One.

One Doesn't Live In A Country, One Lives In A Language.

Not One Moment When I Have Not Been Conscious Of Being Outside Paradise.

We Define Only Out Of Despair, We Must Have A Formula... To Give A Facade Tot He Void.

We Must Suffer To The End, To The Moment When We Stop Believing In Suffering.

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

To Exist Is A Habit I Do Not Despair Of Acquiring.

In The Hours Without Sleep, Each Moment Is So Full And So Vacant That It Suggests Itself As A Rival Of Time.

Great Persecutors Are Recruited Among Martyrs Whose Heads Haven't Been Cut Off.

We Dread The Future Only When We Are Not Sure We Can Kill Ourselves When We Want To.

Democracy: A Festival Of Mediocrity.

All Great Ideas Should Be Followed By An Exclamation Mark - A Warning Signal Similar To The Skull And Crossbones Drawn On High-voltage Transformers.

Exclamation Marks

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

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

One Is And Remains A Slave As Long As One Is Not Cured Of Hoping.

No One Can Do Without Some Semblance Of Immortality, And Even Less Will They Deny Themselves The Right To Seek It Out In The Form Of This Or That Reputation, Starting With The Literary... Since Death Has Come To Be Accepted By All As The Absolute End, Everyone Writes.

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

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

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.

To Want Fame Is To Prefer Dying Scorned Than Forgotten.

An Existence Transfigured By Failure.

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

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.

No Position Is So False As Having Understood And Still Remaining Alive.

Melancholy: An Appetite No Misery Satisfies.

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.

If, At The Limit, You Can Rule Without Crime, You Cannot Do So Without Injustices.

What Music Appeals To In Us It Is Difficult To Know; What We Do Know Is That Music Reaches A Zone So Deep That Madness Itself Cannot Penetrate There.

Not To Be Born Is Undoubtedly The Best Plan Of All. Unfortunately, It Is Within No One's Reach.

Best Laid Plans

Even When Nothing Happens, Everything Seems Too Much For Me. What Can Be Said, Then, In The Presence Of An Event, Any Event?

Ideas Come As You Walk, Nietzsche Said. Walking Dissipates Thoughts, Shankara Taught.

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.

Consciousness Is Nature's Nightmare.

How Good Would It Be If One Could Die By Throwing Oneself Into An Infinite Void.

By Virtue Of Depression, We Recall Those Misdeeds We Buried In The Depths Of Our Memory. Depression Exhumes Our Shames.

If You're Unlucky Enough Not To Have Alcoholic Parents, It Takes You A Whole Lifetime Of Intoxication To Overcome The Dead Weight Of Their Virtues.

Humanity Adores Only Those Who Cause It To Perish.

What Surrounds Us We Endure Better For Giving It A Name - And Moving On.

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

What Is That One Crucifixion Compared To The Daily Kind Any Insomniac Endures?

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.

Our Works, Whatever They May Be, Derive From Our Incapacity To Kill Or To Kill Ourselves.

No Human Beings More Dangerous Than Those Who Have Suffered For A Belief: The Great Persecutors Are Recruited From The Martyrs Not Quite Beheaded. Far From Diminishing The Appetite For Power, Suffering Exasperates It.

I Am Like A Broken Puppet Whose Eyes Have Fallen Inside.

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.

We Inhabit A Language Rather Than A Country.

Our First Intuitions Are The True Ones.

Existing Is Plagiarism.

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.

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

I Foresee The Day When We Shall Read Nothing But Telegrams And Prayers.

Skepticism Is The Elegance Of Anxiety.

Since All Life Is Futility, Then The Decision To Exist Must Be The Most Irrational Of All.

Futility Of Life

The True Hero Fights And Dies In The Name Of His Destiny, And Not In The Name Of A Belief.

It Is An Understatement To Say That In This Society Injustices Abound: In Truth, It Is Itself The Quintessence Of Injustice.

It Has Been A Long Time Since Philosophers Have Read Men's Souls. It Is Not Their Task, We Are Told. Perhaps. But We Must Not Be Surprised If They No Longer Matter Much To Us.

I Do Nothing, Granted. But I See The Hours Pass - Which Is Better Than Trying To Fill Them.

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.

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.

Torment, For Some Men, Is A Need, An Appetite, And An Accomplishment.

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?

For You Who No Longer Possess It, Freedom Is Everything, For Us Who Do, It Is Merely An Illusion.

The Obsession With Suicide Is Characteristic Of The Man Who Can Neither Live Nor Die, And Whose Attention Never Swerves From This Double Impossibility.

I Am The Beast With A Contorted Grin, Contracting Down To Illusion And Dilating Toward Infinity, Both Growing And Dying, Delightfully Suspended Between Hope For Nothing And Despair Of Everything, Brought Up Among Perfumes And Poisons, Consumed With Love And Hatred, Killed By Lights And Shadows. My Symbol Is Death Of Light And The Flame Of Death. Sparks Die In Me Only To Be Reborn As Thunder And Lightning. Darkness Itself Glows In Me.

Negation Is The Mind's First Freedom, Yet A Negative Habit Is Fruitful Only So Long As We Exert Ourselves To Overcome It, Adapt It To Our Needs; Once Acquired It Can Imprison Us.

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.

Glory - Once Achieved, What Is It Worth?

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.

My Enthusiasms...constitute My Reserves, My Unexploited Resources, Perhaps My Future.

No One Can Enjoy Freedom Without Trembling.

To Devastate By Language, To Blow Up The Word And With It The World.

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

Lucidity's Task: To Attain A Correct Despair, An Olympian Ferocity.

Write Books Only If You Are Going To Say In Them The Things You Would Never Dare Confide To Anyone.

All Philosophers Should End Their Days At Pythia's Feet. There Is Only One Philosophy, That Of Unique Moments.

Jealousy - That Jumble Of Secret Worship And Ostensible Aversion.

I Lost My Sleep, And This Is The Greatest Tragedy That Can Befall Someone. It Is Much Worse Than Sitting In Prison.

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

The Multiplication Of Our Kind Borders On The Obscene; The Duty To Love Them, On The Preposterous.

Crime In Full Glory Consolidates Authority By The Sacred Fear It Inspires.

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.

We Have Lost, Being Born, As Much As We Shall Lose Dying: Everything!

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.

I Don’t Understand Why We Must Do Things In This World, Why We Must Have Friends And Aspirations, Hopes And Dreams. Wouldn’t It Be Better To Retreat To A Faraway Corner Of The World, Where All Its Noise And Complications Would Be Heard No More? Then We Could Renounce Culture And Ambitions; We Would Lose Everything And Gain Nothing; For What Is There To Be Gained From This World?

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

True Contact Between Beings Is Established Only By Mute Presence, By Apparent Non-communication, By That Mysterious And Wordless Exchange Which Resembles Inward Prayer.

A Decadent Civilization Compromises With Its Disease, Cherishes The Virus Infecting It, Loses Its Self-respect.

Every Thought Should Recall The Ruin Of A Smile.

Maniacs Of Procreation, Bipeds With Devalued Faces, We Have Lost All Appeal For Each Other.

He Who Hates Himself Is Not Humble.

What A Pity That 'nothingness' Has Been Devalued By An Abuse Of It Made By Philosophers Unworthy Of It!

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.

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.

The Task Of The Solitary Man Is To Be Even More Solitary.

Suffering Makes You Live Time In Detail, Moment After Moment. Which Is To Say That It Exists For You: Over The Others, The Ones Who Don't Suffer, Time Flows, So That They Don't Live In Time, In Fact They Never Have.

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

Tyranny Destroys Or Strengthens The Individual; Freedom Enervates Him, Until He Becomes No More Than A Puppet. Man Has More Chances Of Saving Himself By Hell Than By Paradise.

Society: An Inferno Of Saviors!

Truths Begin By A Conflict With The Police - And End By Calling Them In.

The Literary Man? An Indiscreet Man, Who Devaluates His Miseries, Divulges Them, Tells Them Like So Many Beads: Immodesty-the Sideshow Of Second Thoughts-is His Rule; He Offers Himself.

Between Ennui And Ecstasy Unwinds Our Whole Experience Of Time.

I Never Met One Interesting Mind That Was Not Richly Endowed With Inadmissible Deficiencies.

Each Of Us Is Born With A Share Of Purity, Predestined To Be Corrupted By Our Commerce With Mankind, By That Sin Against Solitude.

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

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.

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

A Sensation Must Have Fallen Very Low To Deign To Turn Into An Idea.

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

To Accomplish Nothing And Die Of The Strain

Accomplish Nothing

One Hardly Saves A World Without Ruling It.

I Saw That Philosophy Had No Power To Make My Life More Bearable. Thus I Lost My Belief In Philosophy.

Who Rebels? Who Rises In Arms? Rarely The Slave, But Almost Always The Oppressor Turned Slave.

We Die In Proportion To The Words We Fling Around Us.

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

Every Word Affords Me Pain. Yet How Sweet It Would Be If I Could Hear What The Flowers Have To Say About Death!

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

One Can Experience Loneliness In Two Ways: By Feeling Lonely In The World Or By Feeling The Loneliness Of The World.

There Was A Time When Time Did Not Yet Exist.

Illusion Begets And Sustains The World; We Do Not Destroy One Without Destroying The Other. Which Is What I Do Every Day. An Apparently Ineffectual Operation, Since I Must Begin All Over Again The Next Day.

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

What Strangely Enchanted Tunes Gush Forth During Those Sleepless Nights!

The Aphorism Is Cultivated Only By Those Who Have Known Fear In The Midst Of Words, That Fear Of Collapsing With All The Words.

To Act Is To Anchor In An Imminent Future, So Imminent It Becomes Almost Tangible; To Act Is To Feel You Are Consubstantial With That Future.

A Distant Enemy Is Always Preferable To One At The Gate.

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.

Is It Possible That Existence Is Our Exile And Nothingness Our Home?

Skepticism Is The Sadism Of Embittered Souls.

To Live Entirely Without A Goal! I Have Glimpsed This State, And Have Often Attained It, Without Managing To Remain There: I Am Too Weak For Such Happiness.

Try To Be Free: You Will Die Of Hunger.

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.

The Desire To Die Was My One And Only Concern; To It I Have Sacrificed Everything, Even Death.

My One And Only

Were We To Undertake An Exhaustive Self-scrutiny, Disgust Would Paralyze Us, We Would Be Doomed To A Thankless Existence.

We Derive Our Vitality From Our Store Of Madness.

We Have Convictions Only If We Have Studied Nothing Thoroughly.

I Have Always Lived With The Awareness Of The Impossibility Of Living. And What Has Made Existence Endurable To Me Is My Curiosity As To How I Would Get From One Minute, One Day, One Year To The Next.

Revenge Is Not Always Sweet, Once It Is Consummated We Feel Inferior To Our Victim.

I Cannot Contribute Anything To This World Because I Only Have One Method: Agony.

If We Could See Ourselves As Others See Us, We Would Vanish On The Spot.

The Importance Of Insomnia Is So Colossal That I Am Tempted To Define Man As The Animal Who Cannot Sleep. Why Call Him A Rational Animal When Other Animals Are Equally Reasonable? But There Is Not Another Animal In The Entire Creation That Wants To Sleep Yet Cannot.

I Have All The Defects Of Other People Yet Everything They Do Seems To Me Inconceivable.

Tragic Paradox Of Freedom: The Mediocre Men Who Alone Make Its Exercise Possible Cannot Guarantee Its Duration.

Tears Do Not Burn Except In Solitude.

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

Philosophy Is A Corrective Against Sadness. Yet There Still Are People Who Believe In The Profundity Of Philosophy!

Old Age, After All, Is Merely The Punishment For Having Lived.

We Are All Geniuses When We Dream.

My Mission Is To See Things As They Are. Exactly Contrary Of A Mission.

Positive Atheism

When Every Man Has Realized That His Birth Is A Defeat, Existence, Endurable At Last, Will Seem Like The Day After A Surrender, Like The Relief And The Repose Of The Conquered.

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

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

An Aphorism? Fire Without Flames. Understandable That No One Tries To Warm Himself At It.

We Understand God By Everything In Ourselves That Is Fragmentary, Incomplete, And Inopportune.

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

There Was A Time When Time Did Not Yet Exist. … The Rejection Of Birth Is Nothing But The Nostalgia For This Time Before Time.

No Matter Which Way We Go, It Is No Better Than Any Other. It Is All The Same Whether You Achieve Something Or Not, Have Faith Or Not, Just As It Is All The Same Whether You Cry Or Remain Silent.

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?

Utopia Is A Mixture Of Childish Rationalism And Secularized Angelism.

The Amount Of Chiaroscuro An Idea Harbors Is The Only Index Of Its Profundity.

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.

When People Come To Me Saying They Want To Kill Themselves, I Tell Them, "what’s Your Rush? You Can Kill Yourself Any Time You Like. So Calm Down. Suicide Is A Positive Act." And They Do Calm Down.

To Write Books Is To Have A Certain Relation With Original Sin. For What Is A Book If Not A Loss Of Innocence, An Act Of Aggression, A Repetition Of Our Fall?

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

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

What Does The Future, That Half Of Time, Matter To The Man Who Is Infatuated With Eternity?

One Cannot Live Without Motives. I Have No Motives Left, And I Am Living.

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.

Tolerance - The Function Of An Extinguished Ardor - Tolerance Cannot Seduce The Young.

If We Had The Courage To Confront The Doubts We Timidly Conceive About Ourselves, None Of Us Would Utter An 'i' Without Shame.

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.

Only One Endowed With Restless Vitality Is Susceptible To Pessimism. You Become A Pessimist-a Demonic, Elemental, Bestial Pessimist-only When Life Has Been Defeated Many Times In Its Fight Against Depression.

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.

I Would Like To Go Mad On One Condition, Namely, That I Would Become A Happy Madman, Lively And Always In A Good Mood, Without Any Troubles And Obsessions, Laughing Senselessly From Morning To Night.

Afflicted With Existence, Each Man Endures Like An Animal The Consequences Which Proceed From It. Thus, In A World Where Everything Is Detestable, Hatred Becomes Huger Than The World And, Having Transcended Its Object, Cancels Itself Out.

Trending Author

Sugar Ray Leonard

Richard Dawkins

Adam Hochschild

Category