All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is a thing. Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to its silence, the myriad wondering little voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price of victory.
-- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sysiphus
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kagogo says:
Oh well... time will tell where I wind up, I suppose.
Best wishes to you, always.