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

I enjoyed my own nature to the fullest, and we all know there lies happiness, although, to soothe one another mutually, we occasionally pretend to condemn such joys as selfishness.

Every ideology is contrary to human psychology.

On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn't the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill. The soul of the murderer is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clear-sightedness.

There is nothing abstract about pain. It is specific, it is real, and, when it is intense, it is world destroying.

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

Happiness implied a choice, and within that choice a concerted will, a lucid desire.