I think I can say, and say with pride, that we have some legislatures that bring higher prices than any in the world.
The kernel, the soul Â— let us go further and say the substance, the bulk, the actual and valuable material of all human utterances Â— is plagiarism. For substantially all ideas are second-hand, consciously and unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources, and daily used by the garnerer with a
We had an abundance of mangoes, papaias and bananas here, but the pride of the islands, the most delicious fruit known to men, cherimoya, was not in season. It has a soft pulp, like a pawpaw, and is eaten with a spoon.
Human pride is not worthwhile; there is always something lying in wait to take the wind out of it.
I haven't any right to criticize books, and I don't do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can't conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig he
Never be haughty to the humble, never be humble to the haughty.
Everytime I read 'Pride and Prejudice' I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.
Temper is what gets most of us into trouble. Pride is what keeps us there.
What is there that confers the noblest delight? What is that which swells a man's breast with pride above that which any other experience can bring to him? Discovery!
No one who lives in the sunlight of gratitude that things aren't worse makes a failure of his or her life.
To be born to create, to love, to win at games is to be born to live in time of peace. But war teaches us to lose everything and become what we were not. It all becomes a question of style.
We're all special cases.
The only serious question in life is whether to kill yourself or not.
After a short silence the doctor raised himself a little in his chair and asked if Tarrou had an idea of the path to follow for attaining peace. "Yes, he replied. "The path of sympathy.
God put self-pity by the side of despair like the cure by the side of the disease.
Freedom is the right to never have to lie.
After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.
In our society, any man who doesn't cry at his mother's funeral is liable to be condemned to death.
The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor.
For if I try to seize this self of which I feel sure, if I try to define and to summarize it, it is nothing but water slipping through my fingers.
Rebellion cannot exist without the feeling that somewhere, in some way, you are justified. Albert Camu
In the light, the earth remains our first and our last love. Our brothers are breathing under the same sky as we; justice is a living thing. Now is born that strange joy which helps one live and die, and which we shall never again postpone to a later time.
Utopia is that which is in contradiction with reality.
More and more, revolution has found itself delivered into the hands of its bureaucrats and doctrinaires on the one hand, and to the enfeebled and bewildered masses on the other.
There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide. Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. All the rest â€” whether or not the world has three dimensions, whether the mind has nine or twelve categories â€” com
... We need the sweet pain of anticipation to tell us we are really alive.
For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a 'fiancÃ©,' why she had played at beginning again. Even there, in that home where lives were fading out, evening was a kind of wistful respite. So close to death, Maman must h
The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody.
Alas, after a certain age every man is responsible for his face.