Best Emile M. Cioran Words
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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…
Anymore
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All philosophers should end their days at Pythia’s feet. There is only one philosophy, that of unique moments.
All
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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.…
Animates
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Society: an inferno of saviors!
Inferno
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Where are my sensations? They have melted into... me, and what is this me, this self, but the sum of these evaporated sensations?
Evaporated
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The only way of enduring one disaster after the next is to love the very idea of disaster: if we succeed, there are no further…
Disaster
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Reality is a creation of our excesses.
Creation
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Life creates itself in delirium and is undone in ennui.
Creates
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Anyone who speaks in the name of others is always an impostor.
Anyone
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Each of us is born with a share of purity, predestined to be corrupted by our commerce with mankind, by that sin against solitude.
Born
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Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.
Epilepsy
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The universal view melts things into a blur.
Blur
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Basis of society: anonymous sweat.
Anonymous
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Vague a l'ame — melancholy yearning for the end of the world.
End
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Try to be free: you will die of hunger.
Die
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The curtain of the universe is moth-eaten, and through its holes we see nothing now but mask and ghost.
Curtain
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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…
Ardor
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If there is anyone who owes everything to Bach, it is certainly God.
Anyone
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Lucidity's task: to attain a correct despair, an Olympian ferocity.
Attain
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Every thought should recall the ruin of a smile.
Every Thought
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If just once you were depressed for no reason, you have been so all your life without knowing.
All
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To hope is to contradict the future.
Contradict
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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?
Abandon
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Losing love is so rich a philosophical ordeal that it makes a hairdresser into a rival of Socrates.
Hairdresser
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Pursued by our origins…we all are.
All
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