Albert Camus Quotes
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Today we are always as ready to judge as we are to fornicate.
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I had been right I was still right I was always right. I had lived my life one way and I could just as well lived it another. I had done this and I hadn't done that. I hadn't done this thing and I had done another. And so?
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One grows out of pity when it's useless.
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Thus, in a middle course between these heights and depths, they drifted through life rather than lived, the prey of aimless days and sterile memories, like wandering shadows that could have acquired substance only by consenting to root themselves in the solid earth of their distress.
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As for those whose role it is to love us – I mean, relatives and in-laws – It's a different tune. They find the right word, but it's usually the one that wounds.
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The struggle to the top alone will make a human heart SWELL.
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You will always win if you make an effort, no matter how much. However, if you failed it means you were too lazy.
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Fancy language, like poplin, too often conceals an eczema.
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The danger of lectures is that they create the illusion of teaching for teachers, and the illusion of learning for learners.
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The society based on production is only productive, not creative.
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To those who despair of everything reason cannot provide a faith, but only passion, and in this case it must be the same passion that lay at the root of the despair, namely humiliation and hatred.
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If man is reduced to being nothing but a character in history, he has no other choice but to subside into the sound and fury of acompletely irrational history or to endow history with the form of human reason.
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We writers must know that we can never escape the common misery and that our only justification, if indeed there is a justification, is to speak up, insofar as we can, for those who cannot do so.
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I said that the world is absurd, but I was too hasty. This world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart.
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The myth of unlimited production brings war in its train as inevitably as clouds announce a storm.
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I continue to believe that this world has no ultimate meaning. But I know that something in it has a meaning and that is man, because he is the only creature to insist on having one.
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A free press can, of course, be good or bad, but, most certainly without freedom, the press will never be anything but bad.
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The absurd hero's refusal to hope becomes his singular ability to live in the present with passion.
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Just as all thought, and primarily that of non-signification, signifies something, so there is no art that has no signification.
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It is not true that the heart wears out - but the body creates this illusion.
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Sometimes at night I would sleep open-eyed underneath a sky dripping with stars. I was alive then.
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There is a metaphysical honour in ending the world's absurdity. Conquest or play-acting, multiple loves, absurd revolt are tributes that man pays to his dignity in a campaign in which he is defeated in advance.... War cannot be negated. One must live it or die of it. So it is with the absurd: it is a question of breathing with it, of recognizing its lessons and recovering their flesh. In this regard the absurd joy par excellence is creation. "Art and nothing but art", said Nietzsche, "we have art in order not to die of the truth."
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The world I live in is loathsome to me, but I feel one with the men who suffer in it.
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Love is the kind of illness that does not spare the intelligent or the dull.