Albert Camus Quotes About Home

• In a universe suddenly divested of illusion and lights, man feels an alien, a stranger. His exile is without remedy since he is deprived of the memory of a lost home or the hope of a promised land.

  Albert Camus

  Memories, Fear, Home

  Albert Camus (2012). “The Myth of Sisyphus: And Other Essays”, p.6, Vintage

• For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a 'fiancé,' why she had played at beginning again. Even there, in that home where lives were fading out, evening was a kind of wistful respite. So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again. Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too.

  Albert Camus

  Taken, Home, Long

  "The Stranger". Book by Albert Camus, 1942.

• What, then, is that incalculable feeling that deprives the mind of the sleep necessary to life? A world that can be explained even with bad reasons is a familiar world. But, on the other hand, in a universe suddenly divested of illusions and lights, man feels an alien, a stranger. His exile is without remedy since he is deprived of the memory of a lost home or the hope of a promised land. This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.

  Albert Camus

  Memories, Sleep, Divorce

  Albert Camus (2012). “The Myth of Sisyphus: And Other Essays”, p.6, Vintage

• ... I suppose that it is not so easy to go home and it takes a bit of time to make a son out of a stranger.

  Albert Camus

  Family, Home, Son

• Indeed, men never know how to love. nothing satisfies them. All they know is to dream, to imagine new duties, to look for new countries and new homes. While we women, we know that we must hasten to love, to share the same bed, hold hands, and fear absence. When we women love, we dream of nothing.

  Albert Camus

  Love, Dream, Country

• I knew a pure heart who refused tot be mistrustful.... He had written at his doorstep: "From wherever you are, enter and be welcome". Who do you think responded to this lovely invitation? The militia, who made themselves at home and gutted him.

  Albert Camus

  Trust, Home, Heart

• Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe, I don't know. I got a telegram from the home: 'Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.' That doesn't mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.

  Albert Camus

  Mother, Home, Mean

  Albert Camus (2002). “The Stranger”, Spark Notes

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