“Conscious, he must be conscious, he must be conscious without deception, without cowardice – alone, face to face – at grips with his body – eyes open upon death. It was a man’s business. Not love, not a landscape, nothing but an infinite waste of solitude and happiness in which Mersault was playing his last cards.”

“Conscious, he must be conscious, he must be conscious without deception, without cowardice – alone, face to face – at grips with his body – eyes open upon death. It was a man’s business. Not love, not a landscape, nothing but an infinite waste of solitude and happiness in which Mersault was playing his last cards.”

— Albert Camus