The world is beautiful, and this is everything. That great truth which it patiently teaches me is that neither the mind nor the heart has any importance. And that the stone warmed by the sun or the cypress tree swelling against the empty sky set a boundary to the only world in which ‘to be right’ has any meaning: nature without men. This world reduces me to nothing. It carries me to the very end. Without anger, it denies that I exist. And, agreeing to my defeat, I move toward a wisdom where everything has been already conquered — except that tears come into my eyes, and this great sob of poetry makes me forget the truth of the world.
Albert Camus, who would have been 100 today.
From Notebooks 1935-1942