Libro El Extranjero De Albert Camus Now

The prosecutor rose. “Gentlemen of the jury, a man who buries his mother with a hollow heart—then kills a man in cold blood—is a monster not of passion, but of absence. He has no soul. He has no place among the living.”

“I have only this life. I am sure of my death, and surer of my indifference. Your certainties are worth less than a woman’s tear. I am a stranger to you, to this world, to your God. But at least I am not a stranger to myself.” libro el extranjero de albert camus

Meursault was not a cruel man. He was simply a man who forgot to perform grief. The prosecutor rose

One shot. Then four more, after a pause, into the inert body. He has no place among the living

Meursault looked at him. “It would be a lie.”

He thought of Marie, who would soon find another yes. Of Salamano, who lost his dog. Of the Arab, whose name he never learned.