I Cling Like A Miser To The

The Absurd Hero's Refusal To Hope Becomes His Singular Ability To Live In The Present With Passion.

Thus, In A Middle Course Between These Heights And Depths, They Drifted Through Life Rather Than Lived, The Prey Of Aimless Days And Sterile Memories, Like Wandering Shadows That Could Have Acquired Substance Only By Consenting To Root Themselves In The Solid Earth Of Their Distress.

For If There Is A Sin Against Life, It Consists Perhaps Not So Much In Despairing Of Life As In Hoping For Another Life And In Eluding The Implacable Grandeur Of This Life.

Since We're All Going To Die, It's Obvious That When And How Don't Matter.

Mistakes Are Joyful, Truth Infernal.