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-Albert Camus, Notebooks 1951–1959

[TEXT ID: "Somebody inside of me has always tried, with all his strength, to be nobody." END ID]

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Just the thought of him smiling is genuinely making me happy

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Albert Camus, Lyrical and Critical Essays (Death in the Soul)

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Camus et le bonheur

Camus et le bonheur

Camus et le bonheur ! Le sage conseil d’Albert Camus pour connaître le bonheur : ” n’avouez jamais que vous êtes heureux”. Camus et le bonheur ! Le sage conseil d’Albert Camus

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I thrifted this copy of “Resistance, Rebellion, and Death” online from Second Sale and I was more than half way through reading it when I found this hand painted piece of fabric. When I saw it, I already knew it could be Indian art because of the clothing and style. After some further research into Indian folk art, I’ve found that it resembles Rajasthani folk art the most (the blue and gold dresses with stripes were depicted in Rajasthani folk art). This book was published by Vintage International in 1995, so the painting could be up to 26 years old. I somewhat doubt it though, seeing as the paint easily wears off and it is in great shape for the material it’s made of. I know this piece must be hand painted because dark blue is not the original color of the fabric, the paint easily wears off as dust, and on the other side of the piece it is easy to see that the men don’t have faces and the artist started with a peach base for the men’s skin. If this were printed, the faces would probably be visible from the other side as well. I’m really impressed by this find! If I’ve gotten any information about the art incorrect, feel free to correct me!

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“But know this that I will repeat to you until the end. The only thing that separates me from you now and drives me crazy for moments is the idea that one day death will force us to live without each other. When this thought takes hold of me with enough acuity to make me live, for example, one morning, with the idea that you are no longer there and that you will never be there again, all my faculties become blurred in total chaos, I feel a terrible urge to vomit, and sounds of madness can be heard everywhere in me.”

— Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, September 15, 1949 [#93]  

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“When too much fatigue comes to strip me of all strength of imagination and blurs your face, I suddenly lose the taste for life and am only good at lying down like an inert mass until the energy comes back and with it your beautiful look, your wonderful smile. Then I wake up and for a while where I live three lives: yours, mine, and the moving life of our love. Apart from that, nothing exists anymore, only the stubbornness that I put in wanting you where you are so that you can come back to me, beautiful, pure, strong and great as you are.”

— Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, September 13, 1949 [#91]  

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Albert Camus, from Exile and the Kingdom; “The Adulterous Woman”

Text ID: Is there another love than that of darkness, a love that would cry aloud in daylight?

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“Stay with me everywhere. Even if we fight, that’s fine. Let’s fight, and then smile like you know how, with that smile I love to kiss.”

— Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, September 10-11, 1949 [#89]  

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“Camus endured the silence and the unsolvable contradictions of life. Those who love him today still love him not for his answers, but for his clarity and his uncompromising attitude with which he endures the fact that there are no answers. And for the wind in his books, which comes from the sea and completely clears the view of the world for a few seconds.”

— Iris Radisch [x]

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“I am admired for finding just the right word. But I have no merit in this: I am waiting.”

— Albert Camus, ‘The Sea Close By’ (via bougainvilleahouse)

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Happy 106th birthday to Albert Camus!

(November 7, 1913 - January 4, 1960)

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“For a long while God gazed down on this town with eyes of compassion; but He grew weary of waiting, His eternal hope was too long deferred, and now He has turned His face away from us. And so, God’s light withdrawn, we walk in darkness, in the thick darkness of this plague.“

Albert Camus, The Plague