Albert Camus Quotes

In the nineteenth century the problem was that God is dead. In the twentieth century the problem is that man is dead.

The absurd is the essential concept and the first truth.

Everything in the world is gloriously meaningless.

Anything goes and nothing matters.

Nothing matters. Nothing matters.

The absolute has moved into the fortress of the absurd.

I shall go on shining as a brilliantly meaningless figure in a meaningless world.

Nothing matters to a man who says nothing matters.

The concept of absurdity is something I'm attracted to.

Since all life is futility, then the decision to exist must be the most irrational of all.

When I was young I read 'L'Etranger' by Camus, and it made me aware of the strangeness of life.

Famously, there's not really anywhere to go after nihilism. It's not progressing toward anything, it's a statement of outrage, however brilliant.

Life has become the ideology of its own absence.

I'm a Nietzschean scholar. I've read an immense amount about nihilism and existentialism.

Everything is honoured, but nothing matters.

Nihilism: any aim is lacking, any answer to the question "why" is lacking. What does nihilism mean?--that the supreme values devaluate themselves.

Meaning is man-created. And because you constantly look for meaning, you start to feel meaninglessness.

It was previously a question of finding out whether or not life had to have a meaning to be lived. It now becomes clear on the contrary that it will be lived all the better if it has no meaning

I like to remind myself that everything is meaningless.

If we believe in nothing, if nothing has any meaning and if we can affirm no values whatsoever, then everything is possible and nothing has any importance.

The great question of philosophy remains: If life is meaningless, what can be done about alphabet soup?

L'absurde est la notion essentielle et la premie' re ve? rite? . The absurd is the fundamental idea and the first truth.

Even if things are as bad as they could possible be, and as meaningless, then matters of truth are themselves indifferent; we may as well please our sensibilities and, with as much spirit as we can muster, go out with a buck and a wing.

Yet in truth the big question Camus asked was never the Anglo-American liberal one: How can we make the world a little bit better tomorrow? It was the grander French one: Why not kill yourself tonight? That the answers come to much the same thing in the end-easy does it; tomorrow may be a bit better than today; and, after all, you have to have a little faith in people-doesn't diminish the glamour that clings to the man who turned the question over and look at it, elegantly, upside down.

I know for sure that nothing matters.