The Plague Philosophical Viewpoints: The Absurd, Existentialism, Humanism Quotes

He had a soldierly bearing, very erect, and affected a military style of dressing; his snow-white hair was always brushed to perfect smoothness. Leaning over the balcony he would call: "Pussy! Pussy!" in a voice at once haughty and endearing. The cats blinked up at him with sleep-pale eyes, but made no move as yet. He then proceeded to tear some paper into scraps and let them fall into the street; interested by the fluttering shower of white butterflies, the cats came forward, lifting tentative paws toward the last scraps of paper. Then, taking careful aim, the old man would spit vigorously at the cats and, whenever a liquid missile hit the quarry, he would beam with delight. (1.3.18)

His hair isn’t as well brushed as usual, and he looks less alert, less military. You can see he is worried. After a few moments he went back into the room. But first he spat once—on emptiness. (1.3.23)

In this respect our townsfolk were like everybody else, wrapped up in themselves; in other words they were humanists: they disbelieved in pestilences. (1.5.3)

Also, he had the walk of a shy young priest, sidling along walls and slipping mouselike into doorways, and he exuded a faint odor of smoke and basement rooms; in short, he had all the attributes of insignificance. (1.6.20)

An animated conversation was in progress and the woman behind the counter started airing her views about a murder case that had created some stir in Algiers. A young commercial employee had killed an Algerian on a beach. (1.8.25)

When Rieux entered the room, the old man was sitting up in bed, at his usual occupation, counting out dried peas from one pan to another. On seeing his visitor he looked up, beaming with delight. (1.8.68)

When Rieux next met Castel, the Prefect’s remark was still rankling.

"Orders!" he said scornfully. "When what’s needed is imagination." (1.8.94-95)

Hitherto, surprised as he may have been by the strange things happening around him, each individual citizen had gone about his business as usual, so far as this was possible. And no doubt he would have continued doing so. (2.1.1)

Thus each of us had to be content to live only for the day, alone under the vast indifference of the sky. (2.1.14)

But from now on it was different; they seemed at the mercy of the sky’s caprices—in other words, suffered and hoped irrationally. (2.1.14)

Yet they were still not sensational enough to prevent our townsfolk, perturbed though they were, from persisting in the idea that what was happening was a sort of accident, disagreeable enough, but certainly a temporary order. (2.2.3)

Naturally the picture-houses benefited by the situation and made money hand over fist. They had one difficulty, however—to provide a change of program, since the circulation of films in the region had been suspended. After a fortnight the various cinemas were obliged to exchanged films, and after a further lapse of time, to show always the same program. In spite of this their takings did not fall off. (2.2.6)

Oh, I know it’s an absurd situation, but we’re all involved in it, and we’ve got to accept it as it is." (2.2.46)

"No," Rambert said bitterly, "You can’t understand. You’re using the language of reason, not of the heart; you live in a world of abstractions." (2.2.51)

Yes, the journalist was right in refusing to be balked of happiness. But was he right in reproaching him, Rieux, with living in a world of abstractions? Could the term "abstraction" really apply to these days he spent in his hospital while the plague was battening on the town, raising its death toll to five-hundred victims a week? Yes, an element of abstraction, of a divorce from reality, entered into such calamities. Still when abstraction sets to killing you, you’ve got to get busy with it. (2.2.66)

Once the epidemic was diagnosed, the patient had to be evacuated forthwith. Then indeed began "abstraction" and a tussle with the family, who knew they would not se the sick main again until he was dead or cured. (2.2.69)

Then came the second phase of conflict, tears and pleadings—abstraction, in a word. In those fever-hot, nerve-ridden sickrooms crazy scenes took place. But the issue was always the same. The patient was removed. Then Rieux, too, could leave.

There followed objurgations, screams, batterings on the door, action by the police, and later armed force; the patient was taken by storm. Thus during the first few weeks Rieux was compelled to stay with the patient until the ambulance came. (2.2.70)

Yes, plagues, like abstraction, was monotonous; perhaps only one factor changed, and that was Rieux himself. Standing at the front of the statue of the Republic that evening, he felt it; all he was conscious of was a bleak indifference steadily gaining on him as he gazed at the door of the hotel Rambert had just entered. (2.2.73)

To fight abstraction you must have something of it in your own make-up. But how could Rambert be expected to grasp that? Abstraction for him was all that stood in the way of happiness. (2.2.74)

"I haven’t a notion, Tarrou; I assure you I haven’t a notion. When I entered this profession, I did it ‘abstractedly,’ so to speak; because I had a desire for it, because it meant a career like another, one that young men often aspire to." (2.7.63)