By dbanach - Posted on 12 April 2010

On what should the heart base its actions? Love? Nothing is less reliable. We can know what the pains of love are like, but not love itself. Here, it is deprivation, regret, and empty hands. I shall never have the courage; I am left with anguish. A hell where everything presupposes paradise. It is hell nevertheless. What I call life and love is whatever leaves me empty. Departure, constraint, breaches of love or friendship, my heart scattered in darkness within me, this salt taste of tears and love.


— Albert Camus
Notebooks, March 21, 1941.

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