Albert Camus Quotes
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After all manner of professors have done their best for us, the place we are to get knowledge is in books. The true university of these days is a collection of books.
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The entire history of mankind is, in any case, nothing but a prolonged fight to the death for the conquest of universal prestige and absolute power.
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Conscious of not being able to separate myself from my time, I have decided to become part of it.
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To remain a man in today's world, one must have not only unfailing energy and unwavering intensity, one must also have a little luck.
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In our society, any man who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral is liable to be condemned to death.
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You know very well that I no longer think. I am far too intelligent for that.
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We have art in order not to die of life.
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In the end, we would like not to be guilty while at the same time being dispensed of the effort of purifying ourselves. Not enough cynicism and not enough virtue.
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Everything is true, and nothing is true!
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The most exhausting effort in my life has been to suppress my own nature in order to make it serve my biggest plans.
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There is a solitude in poverty, but a solitude which restores to each thing its value.
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And for all his life it would be kindness and love that made him cry, never pain or persecution, which on the contrary only reinforced his spirit and his resolution.
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A trial cannot be conducted by announcing the general culpability of a civilization. Only the actual deeds which, at least, stank in the nostrils of the entire world were brought to judgment.
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Life is a story and god is author.life is absurd.I think so.
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A man is more a man through the things he keeps to himself than through those he says.
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I would like to be able to breathe— to be able to love her by memory or fidelity. But my heart aches. I love you continuously, intensely.
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Camus himself described this work as 'an attempt to understand the time I live in'.
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Ah cher ami, how poor in invention men are! They are They always think one commits suicide for a reason. But it's quite possible to commit suicide for two reasons. No, that never occurs to them. So what's the good of dying intentionally, of sacrificing yourself to the idea you want people to have of you? Once you are dead, they will take advantage of it to attribute idiotic or vulgar motives to your action. Martyrs, cher ami, must choose between being forgotten, mocked, or made use of. As for being understood--never!
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But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?
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Have pity, Lord, on those who love and are separated.
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Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time.
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Men cry because things are not what they ought to be.
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Most men are like me. They cannot live in a universe where the most bizarre thought can in one second enter into the realm of reality--where, most often, it does enter, like a knife in a heart.
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For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a 'fiancé,' why she had played at beginning again. Even there, in that home where lives were fading out, evening was a kind of wistful respite. So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again. Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too.