23: The Plague

split by time between The plague by Albert Camus and The wind Up Bird Chronicle but Murakami

haven’t finished either, will write about the Plague later on..some time soon

edit Sept 8th 2011 5:00 PM

I finally finished it, it was absolutely on my list that I have to at least finish something! I decided to finish this.
You’d think that a book about The Plague and people dying constantly, a horrible heart-wrenching, mutated death would be extremely depressing. But it’s not….!

I like i like Camus because of the way he brings honesty to all the characters and the things that they say. He must be a very honest person, i like honest people. I like people that have nothing to hide. Or you can be someone that can hide everything and we’ll never know.

I took a lot of notes actually but I lost the post-it so I only have the quotes that I kept in the latter part of the book.

page 79 – 80: ‘You understand, doctor. At a pinch, it is easy enough to choose between but and and. It already becomes more difficult to opt for and or then. The difficulty grows with then and afterwards. But what is surely hardest of all is to decide whether one should put and or not.’

I realized that people only ever feel depressed by something if they feel that they could somehow be directly impacted by it. In this day and age, no one can really be plagued by The Plague anymore, perhaps that’s why I didn’t feel too struck by the offense that is this disease.

page 98: “…. And then I had to see people die. Do you know that there are people who refuse to die? Have you ever heard a woman cry out “Never!” at the moment of death? I have. And I realized then that I could not get used to it. I was young and my disgust thought that it was directed against the very order of the world. Since then I have become more modest. quite simply I am still not used to seeing people die. I don’t know anything more than that. But, after all….”

in a later paragraph

A cloud seemed to pass over Rieux’s face.

‘Always, I know that. But that is not a reason to give up the struggle.’
“No, it’s not a reason. But in that case I imagine what this plague must mean to you.”
“Yes,” said Rieux. “An endless defeat.”
Tarrou stared at the doctor for a moment, then got up and walked stiffly towards the door. Rieux followed. He was about to catch him up when Tarrou, who seemed to be staring at his feet, said:
“Who taught you all that, doctor?”
The reply was instantaneous.

page 102: A lot of new moralists appeared in the town at this moment, saying that nothing was any use and that we should go down on our knees. Tarrou, Rieux and their friends could answer this or that, but the conclusion was always what they knew it would be: one must fight, in one way or another, and not go down on one’s knees. The whole questions was to prevent the largest possible number of people from dying and suffering a definitive separation. There was only one way to do this, which was to fight the plague. There was nothing admirable about this truth, it simply followed as a logical consequence.

page 115: Rieux was saying quietly that he thought he understood when Tarrou came up, very excited.
‘I’ve jsut asked Paneloux to join us.’
‘well?’ said the doctor.
‘He thought it over and said yes.’
‘I’m glad,’ said the doctor. ‘I’m glad to find out that he is better than his sermon.’
‘everyone is like that,’ said Tarrou. ‘you just need to give them the opportunity.’
He smiled and winked at Rieux.
‘It’s my task in life, that: to give opportunities.’

page 124
He looked at them, then asked:
“Come Tarrou, are you capable of love?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it, now.”
“There, Yet you are capable of dying for an idea, that’s patently obvious. Well, I’ve had enough of people who die for ideas. I don’t believe in heroism, I know that it’s easy and I’ve found out that it’s deadly. What interests me, is living or dying for what one loves.”
Rieux had been listening closely to the journalist. Still looking at him, he said gently:
“Man is not an idea, Rambert.”

page 140 Wives would seize him by the wrist and scream: “Doctor, give him life!” But he was not there to give life, he was there to order isolation. What use then was the hatred that he could read on people’s faces? “You have no heart,” Someone once told him. But he did have one. He used it to bear the twenty hours a day in which he saw men dying who were made for life. He used it to start again day after day. For the time being, he had just enough heart for that. How could his heart have been big enough to give life?

Posted: August 7th, 2011
Categories: 52 weeks, BOOKS, QUOTES
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Comments: 1 Comment.
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