The absurd has meaning only in so far as it is not agreed to.

You know very well that I no longer think. I am far too intelligent for that.

In Oran, as elsewhere, for want of time and thought, people have to love one another without knowing it.

There is no love of life without despair of life.

We do not know how to eliminate evil, but we do know how to feed some of the hungry and heal some of the infirmed.

In every guilty man, there is some innocence. This makes every absolute condemnation revolting.

For instance, I never complained that my birthday was overlooked; people were even surprised, with a touch of admiration, by my discretion on this subject. But the reason for my disinterestedness was even more discreet: I longed to be forgotten in order to be able to complain to myself... Once my solitude was thoroughly proved, I could surrender to the charms of a virile self-pity.