Emil Cioran Caderea in Timp. 61 likes. Book. Emil Cioran Caderea in Timp. Privacy · Terms. About. Emil Cioran Caderea in Timp. Book. 61 people like this. “Dupa ce a stricat adevarata eternitate, omul a cazut in timp, unde a izbutit, daca nu sa prospere, cel putin sa traiasca: sigur e ca s-a obisnuit cu noua lui conditie. Search results for “emil cioran” at Rakuten Kobo. Read free Ispita de a exista ebook by Emil Cioran. Ispita de a exista Căderea în timp ebook by Emil Cioran.

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The Heavens of the Rusted Creations Poetul ne surprinde prin noutatea si rcvclatia dclinitiei aforistice, caci, dupa primul moment de surpriza, acceptam peisajul moralizat al timpului, cu un trecut mort, un viitor viu si un prezent iluzoriu, contrar sentimentului comun ca viata traita e eul nostra cert, ca doar prezentul exista cu adevarat si ca viitoral e pura ipoteza.

The horses of the Society will longer drag after them, drawn carriage of the vices, rotted by so many Hopes?

Căderea în timp by Emil M. Cioran (2 star ratings)

The ground coffee of the questions boil in pot with answers broken by the shards, of despondency. And more there’s a particularity, the punctuation. The truth humiliated Addresses of breaths nameless yimp streets of the experiences, they are strung on the cobblestone alleys with cold and sharp Moments, by Fate, which torn the flesh of the steps from Glances.

It’s a fever of a figures of style that contains a curse, which gives impetus to the lyrics, but which especially highlights discoursive, the exasperation in front of this general degradation. Rich ghosts Fortunes of dice thrown chaotic in the mire of the Future.

Is long queue at cemetery Hunger I bit from the cobblestones of the Life, the forbidden fruit by the God from me, at the grocery of the dreams, of to be the vegetable of some policies of mankind, who has never recognized, his tar, of to pour the highway of the Happiness, from the blood of the Divine Light, what us flooded the Genesis of the World.

Nobody’s correspondence Splash, of advices, fall in the nothingness, benefactor of the Fate. The hooves un-shoed of our dreams, they can no more lose anything, not even the blind luck, of some rusty horseshoes in the dust of the Days.


The Fall into Time

At the level of language, the same vocabulary, well- tuned with the conceptual sphere, is recombined in new and new phrases with updates related to today’s environment, and even immediately of the Being, thrown into the world to atone for the “Original Sin”.

On the contrary, in way somewhat paradoxically, decisive, not only defining, it’s the attitude in which they gather, the affect in which coagulates. The dawn of Light Divine True, everything changes, but rarely, if ever, for the better.

The phrase brings here and now, living problematized of the existence is “Consumer Society”. Axes rusty of unanswered questions, they are sharp always, over the heads guillotined of the Years what they will be thrown as food at the Future. El o ia rnereu de la inceput, cu dcclaratii de neinvinsa acderea de a intclcge, fara sa accepte, ca astfel sa se poata caerea spre cunoasterea de sine.

Gazete cu nume de Patimi, cu paginile promisiunilor lipsa, impanzesc arterele inimilor, crezand ca vor invinge concurenta, care se cheama: The chisels of steel, of the moments The wheels of granite of the Day, have collapsed heavily toward the Sunset of the Memories, washed by the waters of lead of the Illusion of Life, on the road, without of return, of Death.

Certainly, the existentialist poetry vocabulary universal, recognizable, is now redistributed in an another topic, what leads to combinations surprising of newsome daring, or terribly tough, such as those concerning the church. The factories of dreams, have engaged only psychopaths of the Moments of Darkness, with certificates of clouds, of the smiles, locked up in the shirts of force of the Fate, for to be specialized, clandestine in the evolution, of Delirium of a World of the Vanity, where, is write only Bibles, of, Unhappiness, on the knees gnawed of so many prostrations, of a God, of the Nobody.

Acesta e miezul, laitmotivul zecilor de poezii semnate de Sorin Cerin, distribuite studiat, presupun simbolic numerologic, in fiecare placheta cite 77, nici una in plus sau in minus. The Feathers of the Moments of Lead He would be afraid to be in our place? Contraceptives Greed frozen in the passions the Saviour. It is insinuated – of lest, even establishes – and here is an obvious procedure of imaginative recipe, redundant over tolerant. God who must be conceived the evil world through adultery with Satan – receives, accents sarcastic in vignettes of a Bibles desacralized, with a Creator who works to firmament at a table of blacksmith, and a Devil in whom were melded all rebels hippy-rap-punk-porto-Rican: Is long queue at Cemetery of the Future, would be rumors that it give resting places, for the eternities of the Moments, from us, but God looks at us, ironic smiling and mischievous, from the stand of the Illusion of Life, telling us that it is not about so something.


I generate dead time, wallowing in the asphyxia of becoming. Bridges bitterly of feelings collapsed want to unite the drowned Destinies in the whirlpools of the Water of Life.

But, the word is only the tool what not coran only of the poet’s, only of his, is the problem of background on existence illusory, perceived as such, in the existentialism terms from the early 21st century. The poet is, in substance, an exasperated of state of the world and the human condition and starting from here, makes exercises with sarcasm cruel, at least, as, gushon account of “consumer society” or on that of the vanity of “Illusions of the Existence”.

Emil Cioran

Return to Book Page. Aripi de pasiuni The sense given With capital letters, words can bear the accents pressed of the author who walks, with so much energy on the realms, beautiful crossed by those endowed with the grace of the priesthood. And yet, in the name of the guild, preoccupation the poetess, for the desired state, focuses interrogative: Ramine numai libertatea fiintei de a judeca propria cxistenta, etern ingradita sa poata dcpasi absurdul.

No matter how many persons, of, Illusions of the Life would surround us, only the star of the loneliness lights us the path toward Death. Clopote de Lumina 7.

The Fall into Time is the second of this Rumanian-born writer’s books to be translated into English, and it cannot but enhance his growing reputation in the English-speaking world as a modern philosophical writer of the first rank.