the passion for the absurd is the only thing that can still throw a demonic light on chaos

the passion for the absurd can grow only in a man who has exhausted everything, yet is still capable of undergoing awesome transfigurations. for one who has lost everything there is nothing left in life except the passion of the absurd. what else in life could still move such a person? what seductions? some say: self-sacrifice for humanity, the public good, the cult of the beautiful, and so forth. i like only those people who have done away with all that - even for a short time. only they have lived in an absolute manner. only they have the right to speak about life. you can recover love or serenity. but you recover it through heroism, not ignorance. an existence which does not hide a great madness has no value. how is it different from the existence of a stone, a piece of wood, or something rotten? and yet i tell you: you must hide a great madness in order to want to become stone, wood, or rot. only when you have tasted all the poisoning sweetness of the absurd are you fully purified, because only then will you have pushed negation to its final expression. and are not all final expressions absurd?

from On The Heights of Despair by E. M. Cioran