The StrangerMeursault, an ordinary little clerk living in Algiers, leads a quiet and unemotional life. He commits a senseless murder and is convicted, his lack of emotion toward his mother's death weighing against him. As he contemplates his execution, he considers the value of life and is on the verge of exhibiting feeling. |
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Page 58
But he, of course, knew better; he knew how devoted to my mother I had always
been. I answered—why, I still don't know—that it surprised me to learn I'd
produced such a bad impression. As I couldn't afford to keep her here, it seemed
the ...
But he, of course, knew better; he knew how devoted to my mother I had always
been. I answered—why, I still don't know—that it surprised me to learn I'd
produced such a bad impression. As I couldn't afford to keep her here, it seemed
the ...
Page 141
When the light began to turn green I knew that night was coming. Another thing I
did to deflect the course of my thoughts was to listen to my heart. I couldn't
imagine that this faint throbbing which had been with me for so long would ever
cease.
When the light began to turn green I knew that night was coming. Another thing I
did to deflect the course of my thoughts was to listen to my heart. I couldn't
imagine that this faint throbbing which had been with me for so long would ever
cease.
Page 152
Nothing, nothing had the least importance, and I knew quite well why. He, too,
knew why. From the dark horizon of my future a sort of slow, persistent breeze
had been blowing toward me, all my life long, from the years that were to come.
Nothing, nothing had the least importance, and I knew quite well why. He, too,
knew why. From the dark horizon of my future a sort of slow, persistent breeze
had been blowing toward me, all my life long, from the years that were to come.
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