Some are born to endless night.

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“At this hour of night, his life seemed so remote to him, he was so solitary and indifferent to everything and to himself as well, that Mersault felt he had at last attained what he was seeking, that the peace which filled him now was born of that patient self-abandonment he had pursued and achieved with the help of this warm world so willing to deny him without anger.” ……

“In a minute, in a second,” he thought. The ascent stopped. And stone among the stones, he returned in the joy of his heart to the truth of the motionless worlds.”

Albert Camus.; Happy Death (La mort heureuse)

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