De verveling die de doorsnee mens in zichzelf tracht te compenseren en te verdringen; de schrik van iemand die over de dood nadenkt.
Albert Camusإن طريق الحياة وعرٌ وشاق بدون مساعدة الدين والفن والحب
Albert CamusI spent a long time looking at faces, drinking in smiles. Am I happy or unhappy? It’s not a very important question. I live with such frenzied intensity.
Things and people are waiting for me, and doubtless I am waiting for them and desiring them with all my strength and sadness. But, here, I earn the right to be alive by silence and by secrecy.
The miracle of not having to talk about oneself.
She was waiting, but she didn't know for what. She was aware only of her solitude, and of the penetrating cold, and of a greater weight in the region of her heart.
Albert CamusMots clés solitude loneliness fiction thoughts the-adulterous-woman
Η άνευ όρων ελευθερία είναι το αντίθετο της ελευθερίας. Την άνευ ορίων ελευθερία μόνον οι τύραννοι μπορούν να την ασκούν. Ο Χίτλερ ήταν ένας σχετικά ελεύθερος άνθρωπος, ο μόνος άλλωστε από όλη την Αυτοκρατορία του. Αλλά αν θέλουμε να ασκήσουμε μια αληθινή ελευθερία, αυτή δεν μπορεί να ασκηθεί μόνο προς το συμφέρον τού ατόμου που την ασκεί. Η ελευθερία είχε πάντα ως όριο την ελευθερία των άλλων.
Albert CamusSo 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. As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself-so like a brother, really-I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again.
Albert CamusNo,' Rambert said bitterly, 'you can't understand. You're using the language of reason, not of the heart; you live in a world of... of abstractions.
Albert CamusW ludziach więcej rzeczy zasługuje na podziw niż na pogardę.
Albert CamusMots clés albert-camus the-plague dżuma
There is a terrible emptiness in me, an indifference that hurts.
Albert CamusAnd I fired four more times at a lifeless body and the bullets sank in without leaving a mark. And it was like giving four sharp knocks at the door of unhappiness.
Albert CamusMots clés albert-camus the-stranger
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