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. — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share Image
What does the future, that half of time, matter to the man who is infatuated with eternity? — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
Progress is the injustice each generation commits with regard to its predecessors. — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
A people represents not so much an aggregate of ideas and theories as of obsessions. — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
"The Holy Ghost," Luther instructs us, "is not a skeptic." Not everyone can be, and that is really too bad. — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death! — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
Woes and wonders of Power, that tonic hell, synthesis of poison and panacea. — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
If each of us were to confess his most secret desire, the one that inspires all his plans, all his actions, he would say:… — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
Impossible to spend sleepless nights and accomplish anything: if, in my youth, my parents had not financed my insomnias, I should surely have killed… — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
Let us not be needlessly bitter: certain failures are sometimes fruitful. — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
Psychoanalysis is a technique we practice at our cost; psychoanalysis degrades our risks, our dangers, our depths; it strips us of our impurities, of… — Emile M. Cioran Copy Share
