If death is as horrible as is claimed, how is it that after the passage of a certain period of time we consider happy any being, friend or enemy, who… - Emil Cioran

As incompetent in life as in death, I loathe myself and in this loathing I dream of another life, another death. And for having sought to be a sage such as never was, I am only a madman among the mad.

Death is too exact; it has all the reasons on its side. Mysterious for our instincts, it takes shape, to our reflection, limpid, without glamor, and without the false lures of the unknown. By dint of accumulating non-mysteries and monopolizing non-meanings, life inspires more dread than death: it is life which is the Great Unknown.

One does not inhabit a country; one inhabits a language. That is our country, our fatherland — and no other.