Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die.
“As if the blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope; for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. Finding it so much like myself — so like a brother, really — I felt I had been happy and that I was happy again.”
Albert Camus,
The Stranger
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