The Fall

by Albert Camus

Then came human beings; they wanted to cling, but there was nothing to cling to, and that was unfortunate—for them.

But the oath they swore to me liberated me while it bound them.

How do I know I have no friends? It’s very easy: I discovered it the day I thought of killing myself to play a trick on them, to punish them, in a way. But punish whom?

Men are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive, your case is doubtful; you have a right only to their skepticism.

Martyrs, cher ami, must choose between being forgotten, mocked, or made use of. As for being understood—never!

I used to advertise my loyalty and I don’t believe there is a single person I loved that I didn’t eventually betray.

I have never been really able to believe that human affairs were serious matters. I had no idea where the serious might lie, except that it was not in all this I saw around me—which seemed to me merely an amusing game, or tiresome.

Then it was that the thought of death burst into my daily life. I would measure the years separating me from my end. I would look for examples of men of my age who were already dead. And I was tormented by the thought that I might not have time to accomplish my task. What task? I had no idea. Frankly, was what I was doing worth continuing? But that was not quite it. A ridiculous fear pursued me, in fact: one could not die without having confessed all one’s lies.

No one, ever again, would know the truth on this point, since the only one to know it was precisely the dead man sleeping on his secret. That absolute murder of a truth used to make me dizzy.

We are making progress and yet nothing is changing. It’s not navigation but dreaming.

So I looked elsewhere for the love promised by books, which I had never encountered in life.

I’ll tell you a big secret, mon cher. Don’t wait for the Last Judgment. It takes place every day.

Only, the confession of my crimes allows me to begin again lighter in heart and to taste a double enjoyment, first of my nature and secondly of a charming repentance.