Camus never knew him. Camus, his mother and other relatives lived without many basic material possessions during his childhood in the Belcourt section of Algiers. He was a second-generation French immigrant to Algeria. His paternal grandfather, along with many others of his generation, had moved to Africa for a better life during the first decades of the 19th century. It was at that time that Camus turned to philosophy, with the mentoring of his philosophy teacher Jean Grenier. He was impressed by ancient Greek philosophers and Friedrich Nietzsche.
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My wife watched Outbreak and I said, what the hell are you doing? Apr 12, PM Mimi Jones The bits about the writer Grand and his endless tinkering with the first and only sentence of his novel about the young lady on her sorrel mare are The bits about the writer Grand and his endless tinkering with the first and only sentence of his novel about the young lady on her sorrel mare are very funny.
It is a terrible fate, doomed upon us all, that could take place at any time, in millions of different ways. The Jews who witnessed the holocaust are aware of this. The people of Haiti know this. The mother who lost her only child in a car accident is aware of this.
Most individuals and groups of individuals spend their days fighting the fact of death, lying to themselves, using clever ways to avoid its ever-present reality. Looking death in its cold, indiscriminating eye, is perhaps the most difficult thing one can do. But the result from doing so -- when taken with time -- is a clear-eyed vision of the world we live in; the result of which is an inner-strength of which few know.
But for those that have candidly looked into the eye of death -- for those that keep its hard reality within their awareness -- there is a wisdom and depth that emanates. No getting out. Do we live like the people of Oran, going through each day without truly thinking, taking things for granted, going through the motions in an ignorant, opiated stupor?
Or do we look death -- and by extension, life -- in the eye, taking nothing for granted, noticing and appreciating our complexities and gifts, endeavoring for truth, and striving to be good people? No matter how painful and difficult, do we face reality with courage?
Do we overcome? Are we striving to be true heroes to others and to ourselves? There are fates worse than death. Like living life half-heartedly, without truth, without passion. Without conviction. Without sacrifice. And without love.