What place do we occupy in the "universe"? A point, if that! Why reproach ourselves when we are evidently so insignificant? Once we make this observa… - Emil Cioran
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What place do we occupy in the "universe"? A point, if that! Why reproach ourselves when we are evidently so insignificant? Once we make this observation, we grow calm at once: henceforth, no more bother, no more frenzy, metaphysical or otherwise. And then that point dilates, swells, substitutes itself for space. And everything begins all over again.
Emil Cioran (8 April 1911 – 20 June 1995) was a Romanian philosopher and essayist whose work is known for its pervasive philosophical pessimism, which frequently engages with issues of suffering, decay, and nihilism.
Portrait adapted from
Wikimedia Commons, Photographer of Keyston agency/Getty Images before Rivarol Premium. Photo taken in the last years of Cioran's life-in-Romania, before his definitive transference in France (1947); first publication 1955-1960s; for Romanian law the artistic and non-artistic photo realized before 1956, or between the years 1956-1996, have their copyright expired. (Public domain / CC0)
Also Known As
Alternative Names:
Emil Mihai Cioran
•
Emil-Michel Cioran
Portrait from Wikimedia Commons. Credit: Photographer of Keyston agency/Getty Images before Rivarol Premium. Photo taken in the last years of Cioran's life-in-Romania, before his definitive transference in France (1947); first publication 1955-1960s; for Romanian law the artistic and non-artistic photo realized before 1956, or between the years 1956-1996, have their copyright expired.. Used under Public domain / CC0. Processed and styled by Quotewise.
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A marvel that has nothing to offer, democracy is at once a nation's paradise and its tomb.
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.
In the hours without sleep, each moment is so full and so vacant that it suggests itself as a rival of Time.
