One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Amongst the learned the lawyers claim first place, the most self-satisfied class of people, as they roll their rock of Sisyphus and string together six hundred laws in the same breath, no matter whether relevant or not, piling up opinion on opinion and gloss on gloss to make their profession seem the most difficult of all. Anything which causes trouble has special merit in their eyes.
Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.
The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor.
None of us would choose to be Sisyphus; yet in a sense, we all are.
I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself, forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
'Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.
Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day. The housewife wears herself out marking time: she makes nothing, simply perpetuates the present … Eating, sleeping, cleaning – the years no longer rise up towards heaven, they lie spread out ahead, grey and identical. The battle against dust and dirt is never won.
Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.
Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning.
Don't wait for the last judgment - it takes place every day.
I would join Sisyphus in Hades and gladly push my boulder up the slope if only, each time it rolled back down, I were given a line of Aeschylus.
Either you pursue or push, O Sisyphus, the stone destined to keep rolling. [Lat., Aut petis aut urgues ruiturum, Sisyphe, saxum.]
There is no fate that cannot be surmounted by scorn.
There is no longer a single idea explaining everything, but an infinite number of essences giving a meaning to an infinite number of objects. The world comes to a stop, but also lights up.
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.
It is of the nature of desire not to be satisfied, and most men live only for the gratification of it.
Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him?
To two men living the same number of years, the world always provides the same sum of experiences. It is up to us to be conscious of them.
If you tell your troubles to God, you put them into the grave; they will never rise again when you have committed them to Him. If you roll your burden anywhere else, it will roll back again like the stone of Sisyphus.
This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.
Like great works, deep feelings always mean more than they are conscious of saying.
At any street corner the feeling of absurdity can strike any man in the face.
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