Emile M. Cioran

Emile M. Cioran
NationalityRomanian
ProfessionPhilosopher
Date of Birth8 April 1911
CountryRomania
thinking people doe
What to think of other people? I ask myself this question each time I make a new acquaintance. So strange does it seem to me that we exist, and that we consent to exist.
time men doe
What does the future, that half of time, matter to the man who is infatuated with eternity?
people doe facts
Does our ferocity not derive from the fact that our instincts are all too interested in other people? If we attended more to ourselves and became the center, the object of our murderous inclinations, the sum of our intolerances would diminish.
country doe language
One does not inhabit a country; one inhabits a language. That is our country, our fatherland - and no other.
soul sadism skepticism
Skepticism is the sadism of embittered souls.
people normal forget
Normal people have nothing to forget.
speaks
Anyone who speaks in the name of others is always an imposter.
fear history result ultimately
Isn't history ultimately the result of our fear of boredom?
freedom merely
For you who no longer posses it, freedom is everything, for us who do, it is merely an illusion.
Sperm is a bandit in its pure state.
reality silence despair
After having struggled madly to solve all problems, after having suffered on the heights of despair, in the supreme hour of revelation, you will find that the only answer, the only reality, is silence.
powerful blow brain
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.
goal weak states
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.
vanity trying gang
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.