Great ideas, it has been said, come into the world as gently as doves. Perhaps then, if we listen attentively, we shall hear, amid the uproar of empires and nations, a faint flutter of wings, the gentle stirring of life and hope.
-Albert Camus, Resistance, Rebellion, and Death
Many of our artists long to be exceptional, feeling guilty if they are not, and wish for simultaneous applause and hisses, Naturally, society, tired or indifferent at present applauds and hisses only at random.
Gradually the artist, even if he is celebrated, is alone or at least is known to his nation only throughout the intermediary of the popular press or the radio, which will provide a convenient and simplified idea of him. The more art specializes, in fact, the more necessary popularization becomes. In this way millions of people will have the feeling of knowing this or that great artist of our time because they have learned from the newspapers that he raises canaries or that he never stays married more than six months. The greatest renown today consists in being admired or hated without having being read. Any artist who goes in for being famous in our society must know that it is not he who will become famous, but someone else under his name, someone who will eventually escape him and perhaps someday will kill the true artist in him.
-Albert Camus “Create Dangerously” lectures
But in order to speak about all and to all, one has to speak of what all know and of the reality common to us all. The sea, rains, necessity, desire, the struggle against death-these are the things that unite us all. We resemble one another in what we see together, in what we suffer together. Dreams change from individual to individual, but the reality of the world is common to us all.
Albert Camus - “Create Dangerously” lecture
"I never saw into myself very clearly, but I’ve always instinctively followed an invisible star…There is in me an anarchy and frightful disorder. Creating makes me die a thousand deaths, because it means making order, and my entire being rebels against order. But without it I would die, scattered to the winds."
Camus gigglin’ about who knows what.
“Hahahahaha, Sartre is goofy-looking!”