Albert Camus Quotes

It is not all darkness in a heart which can cry, "My God".

Hell lies at the bottom of the human heart.

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.

Hope is a punishable offense. The verdict is always death; one more death of the heart.

My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain.

The dull pain of truth weights my soul, pulling it under. I am left hopelessly awake.

The most wretched have yet hope.

God's grace is painted on the canvas of despair.

Tragedy is restful: and the reason is that hope, that foul, deceitful thing, has no part in it.

Truly, it is in darkness that one finds the light, so when we are in sorrow, then this light is nearest of all to us.

Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery.

Human misery is too great for men to do without faith.

I have been in Sorrow's kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows, with a harp and sword in my hands.

Still falls the rain - dark as the world of man, black as our loss - blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails upon the Cross.

This tragic brow, these closed eyes, eyebrows raised and knotted.

What makes loneliness an anguish is not that I have no one to share my burden, but this: I have only my own burden to bear.

To me, death is dark, pain, grief.

At the root of everything I write is tragedy.

Slaves sing most when they are most unhappy. The songs of the slave represent the sorrows of his heart; and he is relieved by them, only as an aching heart is relieved by its tears.

Sharp and fell remorse, the offspring of my sin! Why do you, O God, lacerate my heart so late? Why, O boding cries, that scream so close to me,--why do I listen to you now, and never heard you before?

There sighs, lamentations and loud wailings resounded through the starless air, so that at first it made me weep; strange tongues, horrible language, words of pain, tones of anger, voices loud and hoarse, and with these the sound of hands, made a tumult which is whirling through that air forever dark, and sand eddies in a whirlwind.

When I'm in pain and grief and despair, my throat is clenched and my heart hurts.

There will be no song on our lips if there be no anguish in our hearts.

Rapture's self is three parts sorrow.