Apoi a cerut voie să plece. Dorea să se culce. Viaţa lui se schimbase acum şi nu prea ştia ce să facă.

Albert Camus


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Después de otro momento de silencio, musitó que yo era raro, que sin duda ella me quería por eso, pero tal vez un día yo le repugnaría por las mismas razones.

Albert Camus


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Ni siquiera tenía la certeza de estar vivo porque vivía como un muerto

Albert Camus


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Es que nunca tengo gran cosa que decir. Entonces me callo

Albert Camus


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De todos modos, uno es siempre un poco culpable

Albert Camus


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رجل بلا أخلاق هو وحش تم إطلاقه على هذا العالم

Albert Camus


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I don’t know what to do today, help me decide. Should I cut myself open and pour my heart on these pages? Or should I sit here and do nothing, nobody’s asking anything of me after all?
Should I jump off the cliff that has my heart beating so and develop my wings on the way down? Or should I step back from the edge, and let the others deal with this thing called courage?
Should I stare back at the existential abyss that haunts me so and try desperately to grab from it a sense of self? Or should I keep walking half-asleep, only half-looking at it every now and then in times in which I can’t help doing anything but?
Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?

Albert Camus


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La lutte elle-même vers les sommets suffit à remplir un cœur d'homme. Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux. (Le Mythe de Sisyphe)

Albert Camus


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As to what that exile and that longing for reunion meant, Rieux had no idea. But as he walked ahead, jostled on all sides, accosted now and then, and gradually made his way into less crowded streets, he was thinking it has no importance whether such things have or have not a meaning; all we need consider is the answer given to man's hope.

Albert Camus


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Before her the stars were falling one by one and being snuffed out among the stones of the desert, and each time Janine opened a little more to the night. Breathing deeply, she forgot the cold, the dead weight of others, the craziness or stuffiness of life, the long anguish of living and dying. After so many years of mad, aimless fleeing from fear, she had come to a stop at last.

Albert Camus


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