Albert Camus

Tell Me, Camus, About Love

A Few Words of Inspiration

Sylvia Wohlfarth
Feb 21 · 3 min read

“You will never be able to experience everything. So, please, do poetical justice to your soul and simply experience yourself.” Albert Camus

comfort to my mind and soul you impart in me, Albert, the magnitude of love and the glory of kindness in a wearisome world.

Your observations from the heart walk side by side with a duty to love, no distance apart.

I find the power of unequivocal love in the depth of your reflections as you whisper in my ear that it is merely bad luck not to be loved — but not loving is a misfortune.

I take this as meaning that in the grand scheme of things, loving ourselves and others sows the synergy we desire.

I heed your words of warning,

Violence and hatred dry up the heart itself; the long fight for justice exhausts the love.

Resilience fuelled by the empathy of kindness and a love so strong reduces you to tears of compassion but not to tears of pain or persecution. These, on the contrary, only reinforce your spirit and resolution — Thoughts from your last and unfinished book, The Last Man, which inspire me.

appiness, Albert, is innate in me, not something I need to seek. It is the simplicity of whiling in harmony with my inner self while on par with my surroundings. It can be sparked by watching a robin redbreast on my windowsill silently staring out into the world.

It can be a spontaneous combustion of joy and gratitude for all that I have and all that has been bestowed upon me. It is everything and nothing. Imagine Sisyphus happy.

And as you, Albert, noted:

When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
Camus, The Rebel

es, yes, Albert, the invincible summer, my driving force, my energeia.

I take from your acceptance speech of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1957, that as a writer my task shall “consist in preventing the world from destroying itself” as you once hoped would be the task of your generation.

If with my writing, I can in any way contribute towards achieving this colossal mission, then I have found my ultimate happiness, my eudaemonia.

Thank you, Suntonu Bhadra at Paper Poetry, Somsubhra Banerjee, and Priyanka Srivastava at Literary Impulse for prompting me to reflect on one of my favorite writers.

If any of you, dear writers, Manasi Diwakar, Vaishali Paliwal, G.R. MELVIN, Dr. Jackie Greenwood, Deborah Krulicki, wish to take up the challenge and write about what eudaemonia might mean to you, then it’s all yours.

For further reading:

By chance, I came upon Thomas Dylan Daniel’s discourse on Aristotle’s and Camus’ somewhat diverging concept of happiness

Literary Impulse

Literary bubbles made of creative impulses

Sylvia Wohlfarth

Written by

An Irish-Nigerian soul living in Ireland after 40 years in Germany. A social anthropologist, English teacher, and more. With stories to share; and an opinion…

Literary Impulse

Looking for poetry, fiction and philosophical creative non-fiction that can dazzle. We believe literature makes life more beautiful, and sometimes- worth living.

Sylvia Wohlfarth

Written by

An Irish-Nigerian soul living in Ireland after 40 years in Germany. A social anthropologist, English teacher, and more. With stories to share; and an opinion…

Literary Impulse

Looking for poetry, fiction and philosophical creative non-fiction that can dazzle. We believe literature makes life more beautiful, and sometimes- worth living.

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