Albert Camus
Camus said that the only true function of man, born into an absurd world,
is to live, be aware of one’s life, one’s revolt, one’s freedom. He said
that if the only solution to the human dilemma is death, then we are on
the wrong road. The right track is the one that leads to life, to the
sunlight. One cannot unceasingly suffer from the cold.
So he did revolt. He did refuse to suffer from the unceasing cold. He
did refuse to follow a track which led only to death. The track he
followed was the only possible one which could not lead only to death. The
track he followed led into the sunlight in being that one devoted to
making with our frail powers and our absurd material, something which had
not existed in life until we made it.
He said, ‘I do not like to believe the death opens upon another life.
To me, it is a door that shuts.’ That is, he tried to believe that. But he
failed. Despite himself, as all artists are, he spent that life searching
himself and demanding of himself answers which only God could know; when
he became the Nobel laureate of his year, I wired him ‘On sault l’â me
qui constamment se cherche et se demande’; why did he not quit then, if he
did not want to believe in God?
At the very instant he struck the tree, he was still searching and
demanding of himself; I do not believe that in that bright instant he
found them. I do no believe they are to be found. I believe they are only
to be searched for, constantly, always by some fragile member of the human
absurdity. Of which there are never many, but always somewhere at least
one, and one will always be enough.
People will say He was too young; he did not have time to finish. But
it is not How long, it is not How much; it is, simply What. When the door
shut for him, he had already written on this side of it that which every
artist who also carries through life with him that one same foreknowledge
and hatred of death, is hoping to do: I was here. He was doing that, and
perhaps in that bright second he even knew he had succeeded. What more
could he want?
阿尔贝·加缪（威廉·福克纳）
加缪说过，诞生到一个荒谬世界上来的人唯一真正的职责是活下去，是意识到自己的生命，自己的反抗，自己的自由。他说，如果人类困境的唯一出路在于死亡，那我们就是走在错误的道路上了。正确的道路通往生命，通往阳光。一个人不能永无尽止地忍受寒冷。
因此他反抗了。他就是不能忍受永无尽止的寒冷。他就是不愿沿着一条仅仅通向死亡的道路走下去。他选择的道路是唯一一条可能不光是通向死亡的道路。他所遵循的道路通向阳光。那是一条靠我们微弱的力量永我们荒诞的材料制造出来的道理。生活中这条路本来并不存在，是我们把它造出来之后才有的。
他说，我不愿相信死亡通向另一个世界。对我来说，这是一扇关闭的门。这就是说，他试图相信这一点。但是他失败了。像所有艺术家那样，他不由自主地将自己投身于自我追求与寻求只有上帝才能回答的问题中。在他成为他那一年的诺贝尔文学奖得主时，我打电报给他说，”向永恒地自我追求、自我寻找答案的灵魂致敬。”如果他不愿相信上帝的话，那他当时为什么不停止追求呢？
就在他撞到树上的一刻，他仍然在自我追求与自我寻找答案。我不相信在那光明的一瞬间他找到了答案。我不相信答案能被找到。我相信它只会被寻求，永恒地寻求。而且总是被人类荒诞的某个脆弱的成员。这样的成员永远不会很多，但总会至少有一个存在于某处。而这样的人有一个也就够了。
人们会说他太年轻了，没有时间来完成自己的事业。但这不是”多久”的问题，也不是”多少 “的问题。这仅仅是”什么”的问题。挡那扇门在他身后关上时，他已经在门的这一边写下了与他一同生活、对死亡有着同样预感与憎恨的每一个艺术家所希望的事：”我曾经在这个世界上生活过。”当时，他正在做这件事。也许，在那光明的一瞬间他甚至意识到自己已经成功了。他还能有何求呢？
（原载于《泛大西洋评论》1961年春季号）
