So it is that after each night, facing a new day, the impossible necessity of dealing with it fills us with… — Emil Cioran
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.
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More from this book
So long as man is protected by madness he functions and flourishes, but when he frees himself from the fruitful tyranny of fixed ideas, he is lost, ruined.
I find in myself as much evil as in anyone, but detesting action — mother of all vices — I am the cause of no one's suffering.
Man starts over again everyday, in spite of all he knows, against all he knows.
