A Quote by Emil Cioran

Great persecutors are recruited among martyrs whose heads haven't been cut off. — © Emil Cioran
Great persecutors are recruited among martyrs whose heads haven't been cut off.
No human beings more dangerous than those who have suffered for a belief: the great persecutors are recruited from the martyrs not quite beheaded. Far from diminishing the appetite for power, suffering exasperates it.
I mean, I could go ahead and cut my head off in the guillotine, and it looks great, ... Well, now you turn on CNN and guys are really getting their heads cut off. ... As insane as our fantasy world gets, it's nowhere near as scary as reality.
There [Haiti] were also leaders like Jean-Jacques Dessalines, whose motto was, "Cut their heads off, burn their houses."
Martyrs and persecutors are the same type of man. As to which is the persecutor and which the martyr, this is only a question of transient power.
In the great mass of our people there are plenty individuals of intelligence from among whom leadership can be recruited.
Martyrs, martyrs, martyrs,... we want a million martyrs to march on Jerusalem.
I think women in our global patriarchal culture are told to shut their body down. And when we don't know why, we start to cut our body off. You cut off your curves. You cut off your breasts. You cut off the curve of your tush. You cut off your sexuality... and it's relegated to the bedroom.
My Barbies were usually naked. Once, I took their heads off, cut their hair, drew on their short, spiky hair with some markers, then stuck the heads on Christmas lights. Every year, we'd string our tree with those Barbie heads. It looked demonic. My parents were so cool - they saw it as a form of self-expression.
Cut off my head, and singular I am, Cut off my tail, and plural I appear; Although my middle's left, there's nothing there! What is my head cut off? A sounding sea; What is my tail cut off? A rushing river; And in their mingling depths I fearless play, Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever.
An aristocracy in a republic is like a chicken whose head has been cut off: it may run about in a lively way, but in fact it is dead.
An aristocracy in a republic is like a chicken whose head has been cut off; it may run about in a lively way, but in fact it is dead.
I could cut my leg off. I could cut my arm off. I could gouge an eye out. I'd still probably survive. But not very well. And that's what we're doing to the oceans. It's the life-support system of this planet. We've been dumping in it. We've been polluting it. We've been destroying it for decades. And we're essentially maiming ourselves.
And it is a wonder what will be the fashion after the plagueisdoneastoperiwigs, fornobody will daretobuy any haire for fear of the infectionthat it had been cut off the heads of people dead of the plague.
Most Young Kings Get Their Heads Cut Off.
Terrorists cut people's heads off and that's what they do in the Planned Parenthood clinics.
Wizards die the same as other men, once you cut their heads off.
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