Ich hasste Ironie, konnte sie nicht ausstehen, die Ironiker glauben an nichts, haben nichts, bezweifeln alles, tunken alles in die saure Sauce ihrer scheinbar mit einem Lächeln versüßten Skepsis, geben alles der Lächerlichkeit preis, sind aber im Grunde nur zynisch.

(I hated irony, I could not stand it, ironists believe in nothing, they have nothing, they doubt everything. They dip everything in the acidic sauce of their scepticism that they have seemingly sweetened with a smile. They ridicule everything but after all they are just cynical.)

Uwe Tellkamp: Der Eisvogel (2005)

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