A Quote by Emil Cioran

We die in proportion to the words we fling around us. — © Emil Cioran
We die in proportion to the words we fling around us.
Writing engenders in us certain attitudes toward language. It encourages us to take words for granted. Writing has enabled us to store vast quantities of words indefinitely. This is advantageous on the one hand but dangerous on the other. The result is that we have developed a kind of false security where language is concerned, and our sensitivity to language has deteriorated. And we have become in proportion insensitive to silence.
We wept when we were born though all around us smiled; so shall we smile when we die while all around us weep.
For we let our young men and women go out unarmed in a day when armor was never so necessary. By teaching them to read, we have left them at the mercy of the printed word. By the invention of the film and the radio, we have made certain that no aversion to reading shall secure them from the incessant battery of words, words, words. They do not know what the words mean; they do not know how to ward them off or blunt their edge or fling them back; they are prey to words in their emotions instead of being the masters of them in their intellects.
I think I hoped for something more. Maybe I even hoped that I could find in Richard what I had with Ben. But it is suddenly very clear: Richard is not fallin in love with me and I'm not falling in love with Richard. We are not creating anything permanent or special. We are only having fun together. It is a fling- a fling just like he said last night- a fling with an ending yet to be determined. I feel relieved to have it defined
It's not the thing you fling, it's the fling itself.
His chains chinked softly. I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die.
Dreams are the subtle Dower That make us rich an Hour Then fling us poor Out of the purple door.
With everything, 'Shooting Stars' included, we'll just have some words on a card to prompt us - 'How would Rod Stewart die,' that kind of thing - and we'll just run with that idea, as if we were talking to each other, messing around. And I'm no scholar of these things, but I think that's what double acts should do, isn't it?
Jesus evidently hates it when we tear into our brothers or sisters with demeaning words, words that fail to honor the people around us as the beautiful image-bearing creatures that they are.
Retirement, it seems, is the final fling. The love boat, the trip-around-the-world.
What man's life is not overtaken by one or more of those tornadoes that send us out of the course, and fling us on rocks to shelter as best we may?
Around, around the sun we go: The moon goes round the earth. We do not die of death: We die of vertigo.
These men, in teaching us how to die, have at the same time taught us how to live. If this man's acts and words do not create a revival, it will be the severest possible satire on the acts and words that do. It is the best news that America has ever heard.... How many a man who was lately contemplating suicide has now something to live for!
For Stevie, the words are of prime importance; the song moves around the words, rather than the words moving around the song.
So we see, brethren and sisters that the words of Christ can be a personal Liahona for each of us, showing us the way. Let us now be slothful because of the easiness of the way. Let us in faith take the words of Christ into our minds and into our hearts as they are recorded in sacred scripture and as they are uttered by living prophets, seers, and revelators. Let us with faith and diligence feast upon the words of Christ, for the words of Christ will be our spiritual Liahona telling us all things what we should do.
Come, therefore, and let us fling mud at them!
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