I know I can negate everything of that part of me that lives on vague nostalgias, except this desire for unity, this longing to solve, this need for clarity and cohesion. I can refute everything in this world surrounding me that offends or enraptures me, except this chaos, this sovereign chance and this divine equivalence which springs from anarchy. I don’t know if this world has meaning that transcends it. But I know that I do not know that meaning and that it is impossible for me just now to know it. What a meaning outside my condition mean to me? I can understand only in human terms.
— Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus