The real 19th century prophet was Dostoevsky, not Karl Marx.

People don't love each other at our age, Marthe—they please each other, that's all. Later on, when you're old and impotent, you can love someone. At our age, you just think you do. That's all it is.

For the absurd man, it is not a matter of explaining and solving, but of experiencing and describing. Everything begins with lucid indifference.

If there is a soul, it is a mistake to believe that it is given to us fully created. It is created here, throughout a whole life. And living is nothing else but that long and painful bringing forth.

No one who lives in the sunlight of gratitude that things aren't worse makes a failure of his or her life.

There is only one class of men, the privileged class

To stay or to go, it amounted to the same thing.