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La Naissance de l...
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Emil M. Cioran
“As far as I am concerned, I resign from humanity. I no longer want to be, nor can still be, a man. What should I do? Work for a social and political system, make a girl miserable? Hunt for weaknesses in philosophical systems, fight for moral and esthetic ideals? It’s all too little. I renounce my humanity even though I may find myself alone. But am I not already alone in this world from which I no longer expect anything?”
Emil Cioran, On the Heights of Despair

Fernando Pessoa
“I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.”
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

Comte de Lautréamont
“Race stupide et idiote ! Tu te repentiras de te conduire ainsi. C'est moi qui te le dis. Tu t'en repentiras, va! Tu t'en repentiras. Ma poésie ne consistera qu'à attaquer, par tous les moyens, l'homme, cette bête fauve, et le Créateur, qui n'aurait pas dû engendrer une pareille vermine. Les volumes s'entasseront sur les volumes, jusqu'à la fin de ma vie, et cependant l'on n'y verra que cette seule idée, toujours présente à ma conscience !”
Comte de Lautréamont, Les Chants de Maldoror

Emil M. Cioran
“Is it possible that existence is our exile and nothingness our home?”
Emil Cioran, Tears and Saints

Comte de Lautréamont
“He dreams he is happy; that his corporeal nature has changed; or at least that he has flown off upon a purple cloud of another sphere peopled by beings of the same kind as himself. Alas! May his illusion last till dawn’s awakening! He dreams the flowers dance round him in a ring like immense demented garlands, and impregnate him with their balmy perfumes while he sings a hymn of love, locked in the arms of a magically beautiful human being. But it is merely twilight mist he embraces, and when he wakes their arms will no longer be entwined. Awaken not, hermaphrodite. Do not wake yet, I beg you. Why will you not believe me? Sleep … sleep forever. May your breast heave while pursuing the chimerical hope of happiness — that I allow you; but do not open your eyes. Ah! do not open your eyes.”
Comte de Lautréamont, Maldoror and the Complete Works

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