Erect I make a resolution; prone I revoke it. - Emil Cioran

We are all of us in error, the humorists excepted. They alone have discerned, as though in jest, the inanity of all that is serious and even of all that is frivolous.

I used to ask myself, over a coffin: “What good did it do the occupant to be born?,” I now put the same question about anyone alive.

So it is that after each night, facing a new day, the impossible necessity of dealing with it fills us with dread; exiled in light as if the world had just started, inventing the sun, we flee from tears—just one of which would be enough to wash us out of time.