Cioran on Aphorism and Aphorists

At the back of the monumental Oeuvres of E. M. Cioran (Gallimard, 1995) is a ‘Glossaire’ which gathers snippets from letters and interviews alphabetically by topic. Here follows a rough translation of some fragments on aphorism and aphorists.

Aphorisms (p. 1,736)

Aphorisms are instantaneous generalities.

I can only express results. My aphorisms aren’t really aphorisms. Each of them is the conclusion of a whole page, the end of a little bout of epilepsy.

I let everything else go and I give only the conclusion, like in a courtroom where, in the end, there’s only the verdict: condemned to death. Without thought’s unfolding: just its result. That’s my way of doing things, my formula.

Chestov (p. 1,740)

He thought, quite rightly, that the real problems have escaped the philosophers. Indeed, what are they doing if not conjuring away what really torments us?

Fragment (p. 1,751)

The fragment, the only genre compatible with my mood, is an instant’s pride transfigured, with all the contradictions that follow from that. A work of deep breaths, subject to the requirements of structure, manipulated by the obsession with continuity, is too coherent to be true.

French Moralists (pp. 1,762–3)

Man is an abyss, if you like. Essentially. More bad than good. That’s what I think. Nietzsche thought so too. But Nietzsche is a pure type, like every loner. That’s why I myself feel closer to La Rochefoucauld, the French moralists, that sort. In my view, they were the ones who really understood man because they moved in society. I myself haven’t moved in society; but I’ve known many men; I’ve had a lot of experience with the human being, despite everything. Nietzsche never did.

He never knew all the conflicts that exist between these beings, beneath them—all that—precisely because he lived alone. He guessed, naturally; he pondered it a great deal. But real experience with man you find in Chamfort or in La Rochefoucauld.

I admired Chamfort, La Rochefoucauld and all the rest a great deal in my youth. I read Joubert; all the moralists. This is a question of temperament. Writing aphorisms is very simple, you understand: you’re at a dinner-party; a woman says something stupid; you are inspired with a retort; you go home; you write it down. It’s pretty much like that, the mechanism. Or in the middle of the night an inspiration comes, the beginning of a formula; at three in the morning, you write down the formula.

Nietzsche (p. 1,766)

I believe philosophy is possibly only in ‘fragments.’ In the form of an explosion. It’s not possible, not anymore, to develop one chapter after another in the form of a treatise. In this sense, Nietzsche was extremely liberating. He was the one who sabotaged the academic style in philosophy, who attacked the notion of the system. He was liberating because after him you could say anything… These days we’re all fragmentists, even when we’re writing apparently orderly books.

At night, we’re someone else; we’re utterly ourselves, like Nietzsche, at the end, suffering and trapped. That—what a proof that everything, in the end, is instigated by our ‘misfortunes’!

Pascal (p. 1,770)

It’s the sceptic Pascal, the broken Pascal, the Pascal who might not have been a believer, the Pascal without grace, without the refuge in religion, to whom I feel close. It’s this Pascal to whom I feel related… Because you can easily imagine a Pascal without faith. And Pascal is only interesting from this side… I have been thinking about Pascal all my life. The fragmentary side, you understand: the man of the fragment. The man of the instant, as well…

(If you like this sort of thing, see also posts on Joubert, Rivarol, Rivarol again, and Vauvenargues.)