Emil Cioran, On the Heights of Despair (via ding-ang-bato)
(Source: blackestdespondency, via exulis)
I don’t understand why we must do things in this world, why we must have friends and aspirations, hopes and dreams. Wouldn’t it be better to retreat to a faraway corner of the world, where all its noise and complications would be heard no more? Then we could renounce culture and ambitions; we would lose everything and gain nothing; for what is there to be gained from this world?
4 days ago