They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.
“The centuries have grown heavy and weigh upon the moment. We are more corrupt than all the ages, more decomposed than all the empires. Our exhaustion interprets history, our breathlessness makes us hear the death rattle of nations… the curtain of the universe is moth-eaten, and through its holes we see nothing, now, but masks and ghosts…”
Emil Cioran