This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.

When there is no hope, one must invent hope.

There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart.

Most men are like me. They cannot live in a universe where the most bizarre thought can in one second enter into the realm of reality--where, most often, it does enter, like a knife in a heart.

Happiness and the absurd are two sons of the same earth. They are inseparable.

As a remedy to life in society I would suggest the big city. Nowadays, it is the only desert within our means.

Once one's up against it, the precise manner of one's death has obviously small importance.