Oh, I recall the last morning the sun would rise on the race of man, after which, it was clear, nothing could be the same again. When called to answer for their crimes, the only response that they could find was that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now the sun in the sky has turned to dust, the rivers are running red with blood, and the cries of the helpless are never, never enough.
And those of us who were still alive were rightly afraid to go outside, when VuBu said, "This isn't shoegaze - this is suicide." Then they came with torches and pitchforks, carrying clubs, guns and sharp swords, when the loudest voice I ever heard said, "It's over."
"The Stranger" by Albert Camus:
And I, too, felt ready to start life all over again. It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and I was happy still. For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration.
And those of us who were still alive were rightly afraid to go outside, when VuBu said, "This isn't shoegaze - this is suicide." Then they came with torches and pitchforks, carrying clubs, guns and sharp swords, when the loudest voice I ever heard said, "It's over."
"The Stranger" by Albert Camus:
And I, too, felt ready to start life all over again. It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and I was happy still. For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration.