I always had a soft spot for Cioran's "I wish I were a cannibal – less for the pleasure of eating someone than for the pleasure of vomiting him"
― licorice oratorio (baaderonixx), Wednesday, 16 May 2012 07:22 (1 year ago) Permalink
Such despairing pessimism had, as is often the case, profound roots in childhood. The prosperous country town of Rasinari in Saxon Transylvania seemed like an earthly paradise to the little boy. His father was the orthodox priest of the place, and Cioran loved the cemetery where he made friends with the gravedigger who would give him skulls to play football with.
― Nilmar Honorato da Silva, Tuesday, 23 October 2012 20:13 (7 months ago) Permalink
is there a correlation between paradisiacal childhoods and adult-onset extreme pessimism?
― 乒乓, Tuesday, 23 October 2012 20:15 (7 months ago) Permalink
The capital phenomenon, the most catastrophic disaster, is uninterrupted sleeplessness, that nothingness without release. For hours and hours I would walk the night’s deserted streets, or, sometimes, those haunted by my fellow-insomniacs, the prostitutes, the ideal companions in moments of supreme distress. Insomnia is a vertiginous lucidity that can convert paradise itself into a place of torture . . . It was during those infernal nights that I came to understand the inanity of all philosophy. The hours without sleep are at bottom an interminable rejection of thought by thought itself . . . an infernal ultimatum of the mind delivered to the mind.
― Nilmar Honorato da Silva, Tuesday, 23 October 2012 20:21 (7 months ago) Permalink