The premonition of madness is complicated by the fear of lucidity in madness, the fear of the moments of return and reunion... One would welcome chaos if one were not afraid of lights in it.
Emile M. CioranRead
Every word affords me pain. Yet how sweet it would be if I could hear what the flowers have to say about death!
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the pain of existence and the longing for a deeper understanding of life and death.
In this quote, Emile M. Cioran expresses a profound sense of suffering associated with the act of speaking and existing in the human condition. He contrasts this pain with a yearning to hear the more serene and perhaps enlightening perspective of nature, represented by flowers, on the inevitability of death, suggesting that nature may offer a wisdom and acceptance that humanity struggles to achieve.
In practice
In a memorial speech, one might use this quote to highlight the beauty of nature in discussing the concept of death.
The premonition of madness is complicated by the fear of lucidity in madness, the fear of the moments of return and reunion... One would welcome chaos if one were not afraid of lights in it.
We are afraid of the enormity of the possible.
There was a time when time did not yet exist. β¦ The rejection of birth is nothing but the nostalgia for this time before time.
A marvel that has nothing to offer, democracy is at once a nation's paradise and its tomb.
Paradise was unendurable, otherwise the first man would have adapted to it; this world is no less so, since here we regret paradise or anticipate another one. What to do? Where to go? Do nothing and go nowhere, easy enough.
It is not worth the bother of killing yourself, since you always kill yourself too late.
If you give up your freedom for safety, you don't deserve either one
There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people.
Perhaps the belief in God is the belief that the universe is intelligible, but not to us.
When I read obituaries I always note the age of the deceased. Automatically I relate this figure to my own age. Four years to go, I think. Nine more years. Two years and I'm dead. The power of numbers is never more evident than when we use them to speculate on the time of our dying.
The history of philosophy is actually full of people who argue for rather wild and incredible views, and their reputations are based on the skill of arguing for them.
No author ever drew a character consistent to human nature, but he was forced to ascribe to it many inconsistencies.
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