Albert Camus Quotes

I do not expect to see home again, though that is what I want.

I think we all agree, the past is over.

The past is past; what's gone on has gone on.

Whatever happened in the past is in the past.

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterward remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

Oh all the times I've listened, and all the times I've heard All the melodies I'm missing, and all the magic words, And all those potent voices, and the choices we had then, How I'd love to find we had that kind of choice again.

I know that when I am dying, looking back, it will be women that I regret having argued with, women I sought to impress, to understand, was tortured by. Women I wish to see again, to see them smile and laugh and say, It was all as it should have been.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

All pasts are like poems; one can derive a thousand things, but not live in them.

I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.

And that's when I know it's over. As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end.

Jake went in, aware that he had, for the first time in three weeks, opened a door without hoping madly to find another world on the other side. A bell jingled overhead. The mild, spicy smell of old books hit him, and the smell was somehow like coming home.

Death really did not matter to him but life did, and therefore the sensation he felt when they gave their decision was not a feeling of fear but of nostalgia.

You can go home again...so long as you understand that home is a place where you have never been.

I would like to live. . . open to time and death painlessly, noticing everything, remembering nothing, choosing the given with a fierce and pointed will.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how long ago

Last night it had been my father who had finally said it: "She’s never coming home." A clear and easy piece of truth that everyone who had ever known me had accepted. But he needed to say it, and she needed to hear him say it.

. . .I really ought to have recognized it for what it was and, perhaps, to have stopped right there - for it was nostalgia, and what inspires nostalgia has been dead a long time

Dustfinger closed his eyes and listened. He was home again.

Thank God I found the GOOD in goodbye

Yesterday is another world. I want to go back there.

It's sad, but sometimes moving on with the rest of your life, starts with goodbye.

It took me as long as I had known him to get rid of all of his words. Like turning an hourglass over.