Emil Cioran Quotes

You have left me so long to struggle against death, alone, that I feel and see only death! I feel like death!

I have no mouth, and I must scream.

Anybody singing the blues is in a deep pit yelling for help.

I am livid with rage, sitting here in chains through this mad war which kills any meaning of life... My nerves are shattered and my mind darkened.

No one alive is more tormented nor weaker than myself.

It's very hard, feeling that you're no more than a piece of unwanted furniture in this world.

...but the truth is that I don't feel like I can carry anyone but myself right now. The streets are empty. I am empty. Or, no--I am full of pain. It's my life that's empty.

Choking with dry tears and raging, raging, raging at the absolute indifference of nature and the world to the death of love, the death of hope and the death of beauty, I remember sitting on the end of my bed, collecting these pills and capsules together and wondering why, why when I felt I had so much to offer, so much love, such outpourings of love and energy to spend on the world, I was incapable of being offered love, giving it or summoning the energy with which I knew I could transform myself and everything around me.

And an inky-colored despair of rejection enveloped me like the black tortilla of depression around a pain burrito.

Sometimes, I get so consumed by depression that it is hard to believe that the whole world doesn't stop and suffer with me.

My pain is constant and sharp...this confession has meant nothing

Sometimes...you can cry until there's nothing wet in you. You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures. You can pray, all you want, to whatever god you think will listen. And, still it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you. And you know that if it ever did relent...it would not be because it cared.

I have spent my life falling. Not the kind that Tiny's talking about. He's talking about love. I'm talking about life. In my kind of falling, there's no landing. There's only hitting the ground. Hard. Dead, or wanting to be dead. So the whole time you're falling, it's the worst feeling in the world. Because you feel you have no control over it. Because you know how it ends.

The depressed person was in terrible and unceasing pain, and the impossibility of sharing or articulating this pain was itself a component of the pain and a contributing factor in its essential horror.

Awareness There is a dark place. A place where I have no eyes, no mouth. No words. I can't cry out because I have no breath. The silence is so deep I want to die. But I can't. The darkness and silence go on forever. It is not a dream. I don't dream.

I saw a girl complaining that the pain of not being seen was unbearable... Now I have perfect understanding. I have already experienced the worst. After this, there is no worse possible thing.

I'm rightly tired of the pain I hear and feel, boss. I'm tired of bein on the road, lonely as a robin in the rain. Not never havin no buddy to go on with or tell me where we's comin from or goin to or why. I'm tired of people bein ugly to each other. It feels like pieces of glass in my head. I'm tired of all the times I've wanted to help and couldn't. I'm tired of bein in the dark. Mostly it's the pain. There's too much. If I could end it, I would. But I can't.

Pain is the world. I don't have anywhere to run.

In the country of pain we are each alone.

For death is not the worst, but when one wants to die and is not able even to have that.

If you have ever been in a real tragic or sad situation, the words that come out are hopelessly inadequate and kind of cliched.

That is how prison is tearing me up inside. It hurts every day. Every day takes me further from my life.

I will indulge my sorrows, and give way to all the pangs and fury of despair.