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Quote by Albert Camus

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Caligula and Three Other Plays

This volume brings together four plays by the French existentialist writer and philosopher Albert Camus. The title play, Caligula, explores the reign of the Roman emperor as he grapples with absurdity and the limits of power. The other three plays—The Misunderstanding, State of Emergency, and The Just Assassins—each examine themes of justice, rebellion, and the human condition, reflecting Camus's philosophical concerns. The collection offers a representative sample of Camus's dramatic work, which often confronts moral dilemmas and the search for meaning in a seemingly indifferent world. more

Author

Albert Camus
Albert Camus

Albert Camus was a French author and philosopher, born on November 7, 1913, and died on January 4, 1960. Known for his unique existentialist philosophy and profound insights into human suffering, Camus' works include 'The Stranger', 'The Plague', and 'The Myth of Sisyphus', which have had a profound impact on 20th-century literature. more

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“One of the strongest motives that leads men to art and science is escape from everyday life with its painful crudity and hopeless dreariness. Such men make this cosmos and its construction the pivot of their emotional life, in order to find the peace and security which they cannot find in the narrow whirlpool of personal experience.”

“People were buying milk, or filling their cars with petrol, or even posting letters. And what no one else knew was the appalling weight of the thing they were carrying inside. The superhuman effort it took sometimes to be normal, and a part of things that appeared both easy and everyday. The loneliness of that.”

“The more civilized a nation, the more conformed its population, until that civilization's last age arrives, when multiplicity wages war with conformity. The former grows ever wilder, ever more dysfunctional in its extremities; whilst the latter seeks to increase its measure of control, until such efforts acquire diabolical tyranny.' - Traveller”

“It was a part of myself that was my enemy; I still had a childish illusion that the flesh on my own bones was somehow unique and precious to the universe, in some obscure corner of my mind I wanted the others to love me and make exceptions for me simply because I felt heat and cold, pain and loneliness as they did. Now this was gone once and for all, and I understood there were no exceptions and on one was invulnerable, we all had to share the same conditions and in the end this was simply mortality, the mortality of things as well as ourselves. After that I didn't expect anybody to love me.”