Emile M. Cioran

Life is possible only by the deficiencies of our imagination and memory.

Jealousy - that jumble of secret worship and ostensible aversion.

We are afraid of the enormity of the possible.

Woes and wonders of Power, that tonic hell, synthesis of poison and panacea.

Intelligence flourishes only in the ages when belief withers.

Life inspires more dread than death - it is life which is the great unknown.

What surrounds us we endure better for giving it a name - and moving on.

What would be left of our tragedies if an insect were to present us his?

Our first intuitions are the true ones.