"To know oneself, one should assert oneself. Psychology is action, not thinking
about oneself. We continue to shape our personality all our life. If we knew
ourselves perfectly, we should die. "
"You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life."
From "The Plague" by Albert Camus
“In fact it comes to this: nobody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. For really to think about someone, means thinking about that person every minute of the day, without letting one’s thoughts be diverted by anthing -- my meals, by a fly that settles on one’s cheek, by household duties, or by a sudden itch somewhere. But there are always flies and itches. That’s why life is difficult to live.”
“Is a Priest Justified in Consulting a Doctor ?”
“Though they have an instinctive craving for human contacts, they can’t bring themselves to yield to it, because of the mistrust that keeps them apart. For its common knowledge that you can’t trust your neighbour, he may pass the disease to you.”
“Man is an idea, and a precious small idea once he turns his back on love. And that’s my point; we mankind have lost the capacity for love.”
“ ‘Poor Monsieur Othon !’ Tarrou murmered as the gate closed behind him ‘One would like to help him. But how can you help a judge ?’ “
“that to love someone means relatively little; or, rather, that love is never strong enough to find the words befitting it..”
"When a war breaks out, people say: 'It's too stupid; it can't last long." But
though a war may well be 'too stupid,' that doesn't prevent its lasting.
Stupidity has a knack of getting its way; as we should see if we were not
always so wrapped up in ourselves."
" "Ah!" Cottard sighed. "I only wish I had a knack for writing" When Grand
showed his surprise, Cottard explained with some embarrassment that
being a literary man must make things easier in lots of ways. "Why?"
Grand asked. "Why, because the author has more rights than ordinary
people, as everybody knows. People will stand much more from him."
"
"The really remarkable thing, and Rambert was greatly struck by this, was
the way in which, in the very midst of a catastrophe, offices could go on
functioning serenely and take initiatives of no immediate relevance, and
often unknown to the highest authority, purely and simply because they
had been created originally for this purpose."
"Thus, too they came to know the incorrigible sorrow of all prisoners and
exiles, which is to live in company with a memory that serves no purpose.
Even the past, of which they thought incessantly, had a savor only of
regret."
“and one day she--- or he--- would die, without ever, all their lives long, having gone farther than this (reffering to silence) by way of making their affection known.”
“so all a man could conflict between plague and life was knowledge and memories.”
From "The Outsider"
"Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram
from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.'
That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday."
"Once we were dressed, she seemed very surprised to see I was wearing
a black tie and she asked me if I was in mourning. I told her Maman had
died. She wanted to know how long ago, so I said, 'Yesterday.' She gave a
little start but didn't say anything. I felt like telling her it wasn't my fault,
but I stopped myself because I remembered that I'd already said that to
my boss. It didn't mean anything. Besides, you always feel a little guilty."
"I knew that it was stupid, that I wouldn't get the sun off me by stepping
forward. But I took a step, one step, forward. And this time, without getting
up, the Arab drew his knife and held it up to me in the sun. The light shot
off the steel and it was like a long flashing blade cutting at my forehead. At
the same instant the sweat in my eyebrows dripped down over my eyelids
all at once and covered them with a warm, thick film. My eyes were
blinded by the curtain of tears and salt. All I could feel were the cymbals of
sunlight crashing on my forehead and, indistinctly, the dazzling spear
flying up from the knife in front of me. The scorching blade slashed at my
eyelashes and stabbed at my stinging eyes. That's when everything began
to reel. The sea carried up a thick, fiery breath. It seemed to me as if the
sky split open from one end to the other to rain down fire. My whole being
tensed and I squeezed my hand around the revolver. The trigger gave; I felt
the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and
deafening at the same time, is where it all started. I shook off the sweat
and sun. I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the
exceptional silence of a beach where I'd been happy. Then I fired four more
times at the motionless body where the bullets lodged without leaving a
trace. And it was like knocking four quick times at the door of
unhappiness."
"When I was first imprisoned, the hardest thing was that my thoughts were
still those of a free man. For example, I would suddenly have the urge to
be on a beach and to walk down to the water. As I imagined the sound of
the first waves under my feet, my body entering the water and the sense of
relief it would give me, all of a sudden I would feel just how closed in I was
by the walls of my cell. But that only lasted a few months. Afterwards my
only thoughts were those of a prisoner. I waited for the daily walk, which I
took in the courtyard, or for a visit from my lawyer. The rest of the time I
managed pretty well. At the time, I often thought that if I had to live in the
trunk of a dead tree, with nothing to do but look up at the sky flowering
overhead, little by little I would have gotten used to it. I would have waited
for birds to fly by or clouds to mingle, just as here I waited to see my
lawyer's ties and just as, in another world, I used to wait patiently until
Saturday to hold Marie's body in my arms. Now, as I think back on it, I
wasn't in a tree trunk. There were others worse off than me. Anyway, it
was one of Maman's ideas, and she often repeated it, that after a while
you could get used to anything."
"Everything was happening without my participation. My fate was being
decided without anyone so much as asking my opinion. There were times
when I felt like saying, 'Wait a minute! Who's the accused here? Being the
accused counts for something. And I have something to say!' But on
second thought, I didn't have anything to say."
"According to him, human justice was nothing and divine justice was
everything. I pointed out that it was the former that had condemned me.
His response was that it hadn't washed away my sin for all that. I told him
I didn't know what a sin was. All they had told me was that I was guilty. I
was guilty, I was paying for it, and nothing more could be asked of me."
