In a universe suddenly divested of illusion and lights, man feels an alien, a stranger. His exile is without remedy since he is deprived of the memory of a lost home or the hope of a promised land.

In a universe suddenly divested of illusion and lights, man feels an alien, a stranger. His exile is without remedy since he is deprived of the memory of a lost home or the hope of a promised land.

The absurd depends as much on man as on the world. For the moment, it is all that links them together.

Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.

So all a man could win in the conflict between plague and life was knowledge and memories.

In our well-policed society we recognize that an illness is serious from the fact that we don't dare speak of it directly.

But who would dare condemn me in this world with no judges, where no one is innocent!