There are experiences and obsessions one cannot live with. Salvation lies in confessing them. The terrifying experience of death, when preserved in consciousness, becomes ruinous. If you talk about death, you save part of your self. But at the same time, something of your real self dies, because objectified meanings lose the actuality they have in consciousness. This is why lyricism represents a dispersion of subjectivity; it is a certain quantity of an individual's spiritual effervescence which cannot be contained and needs constant expression. To be lyrical means you cannot stay closed up inside yourself. The need to externalize is the more intense, the more the lyricism is interiorized, profound, and concentrated.
(...)
To be lyrical from suffering means to achieve that inner purification in which wounds cease to be mere outer manifestations without deep complications and begin to participate in the essence of your being. The lyricism of suffering is a song of the blood, the flesh, and the nerves. True suffering begins in illness. Almost all illnesses have lyrical virtues. Only those who vegetate in a scandalous insensitivity remain impersonal when ill, and thus miss that deepening of the personality brought about by illness. One does not become lyrical except after a total organic affliction.
from On the Heights of Despair by E. M Cioran
The logic of pessimism moves through three refusals: a no-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-for-us, or Schopenhauer’s tears); a yes-saying to the worst (refusal of the world-in-itself, or Nietzsche’s laughter); and a no-saying to the for-us and the in-itself (a double refusal, or Cioran’s sleep).
Crying, laughing, sleeping — what other responses are adequate to a life that is so indifferent?
from Cosmic Pessimism by Eugene Thacker
A day comes when, thanks to rigidity, nothing causes wonder any more, everything is known, and life is spent in beginning over again. These are the days of exile, of desiccated life, of dead souls. To come alive again, one needs a special grace, self-forgetfulness, or a homeland. Certain mornings, on turning a corner, a delightful dew falls on the heart and then evaporates. But its coolness remains, and this is what the heart requires always. I had to set out again.from Return to Tipasa by Albert Camus
- I doubt any of us is a stranger to grief.
- No, more than grief. Its deep down… inside… every cell screams… you can hear… nothing else.
in Twin Peaks
I was young. And I felt that everybody had talent. And that for some reason they were being arbitrary and not employing that talent. I thought, 'Well, these people are the giants of an industry, they must have a good brain and a good heart and ability, how come they don't use it?' And Gena said, 'Look, a lot of people just don't have the same drives, the same desires, the same gun that sparks them. You're acting like these people all understand you; nobody understands you, I don't understand you. How the hell can anybody understand you? You're nuts!'from Cassavetes on Cassavetes
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