The world expects of Christians that they will raise their voices so loudly and clearly and so formulate their protest that not even the simplest man can have the slightest doubt about what they are saying. Further, the world expects of Christians that they will eschew all fuzzy abstractions and plant themselves squarely in front of the bloody face of history. We stand in need of folk who have determined to speak directly and unmistakably and come what may, to stand by what they have said.
For the absurd man, it is not a matter of explaining and solving, but of experiencing and describing. Everything begins with lucid indifference.
In the world today, only a philosophy of eternity could justify non-violence.
If pimps and thieves everywhere were always punished, honest people would all believe themselves always to be innocent.
If the only significant history of human thought were to be written, it would have to be the history of its successive regrets and its impotences.
“To think the way you do,” he said smiling, “you have to be a man who lives either on a tremendous despair, or on a tremendous hope.” “On both, perhaps.”
Whoever today speaks of human existence in terms of power, efficiency, and historical tasks is an actual or potential assassin.
And often he who has chosen the fate of the artist because he felt himself to be different soon realizes that he can maintain neither his art nor his difference unless he admits that he is like the others. The artist forges himself to the others, midway between the beauty he cannot do without and the community he cannot tear himself away from.
The role of the intellectual cannot be to excuse the violence of one side and condemn that of the other.
He seemed so certain about everything, didn't he? And yet none of his certainties was worth one hair of a woman's head. He wasn't even sure he was alive, because he was living like a dead man.
Real fulfillment, for the man who allows absolutely free rein to his desires, and who much dominate everything, lies in hatred.
It was previously a question of finding out whether or not life had to have a meaning to be lived. It now becomes clear on the contrary that it will be lived all the better if it has no meaning
To live is to hurt others, and through others, to hurt oneself. Cruel earth! How can we manage not to touch anything? To find what ultimate exile?
Betrayal answers betrayal, the mask of love is answered by the disappearance of love.
The absurd is a shadow cast over everything we do and even if we try to live life as if it has meaning as if there are reasons for doing things the absurd will linger in the back of our minds as a nagging doubt that perhaps there is no point.
You will always win if you make an effort, no matter how much. However, if you failed it means you were too lazy.
No human being, even the most passionately loved and passionately loving, is ever in our possession.
how hard it must be to live only with what one knows and what one remembers, cut off from what one hopes for!
Suffering gives us no special rights.
To cut short this question of the law of retaliation, we must note that even in its primitive form it can operate only between two individuals of whom one is absolutely innocent and the other absolutely guilty. The victim, to be sure, is innocent. But can the society that is supposed to represent the victim lay claim to innocence?
Man is always prey to his truths. Once he has admitted them, he cannot free himself from them.
The myth of unlimited production brings war in its train as inevitably as clouds announce a storm.
It is not rebellion itself which is noble but the demands it makes upon us.
Man is an idea, and a precious small idea once he turns his back on love.
In every guilty man, there is some innocence. This makes every absolute condemnation revolting.
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