I am only a madman among the mad.
— Emil Cioran
Emil Cioran is one of my go-to writers I read when life seems unrecoverably absurd. His pessimistic insights sustain me, perhaps even energize me when all else looks rather desperate. He understood more than most that “Injustice governs the universe.”
Contrary to what many believe, Pessimism isn’t merely an exclusively negative worldview that leads to resignation, pity, and self-loathing. It can be quite liberating to come face-to-face with reality devoid of illusions, to see beyond the fluffy facade so as to be better prepared for life’s inevitable hardships.
Research has recently shown that those who harbor a certain degree of pessimism “tend to foresee obstacles more readily since they expect things to go wrong, meaning that they are more likely to plan for difficulties.”
Bernard DeVoto once said, “Pessimism is only the name that men of weak nerves give to wisdom.”
Emil Cioran was a Romanian philosopher and essayist known for his existentialist and nihilistic-leaning musings. He was born on April 8, 1911, in Rășinari, Romania, and died in Paris on June 20, 1995. An avid reader of Cioran, Susan Sontag declared him “the most distinguished figure in the tradition since Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein.”
Cioran's works often explore themes of despair, alienation, absurdity, and the futility of human endeavors. His prose is concise and darkly poetic and is characterized by its aphoristic style. Despite his pessimistic outlook, Cioran's works have gathered much adoration for their philosophical depth and literary quality, influencing many thinkers across various disciplines.
Nic Pizzolatto, director and screenwriter of the astounding True Detective TV series, which was greatly influenced by Cioran’s writings, stated in an interview: “As an aphorist, Cioran has no rivals other than perhaps Nietzsche…”
Below is a passage from Cioran’s great work — A Short History of Decay
I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Nailed to ourselves, we lack the capacity of leaving the path inscribed in the innateness of our despair. Exempt ourselves from life because it is not our element? No one hands out diplomas of non-existence.
We must persevere in breathing, feel the air burn our lips, accumulate regrets at the heart of a reality which we have not hoped for, and renounce giving an explanation for the Disease which brings about our downfall.
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