No Sun Without Shadow, by Roger SeLegue

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The Myth


The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly roll a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason there is no more dreadful punishment then futile and hopeless labor.

The workman of today works everyday in his life at the same tasks, and his fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments it becomes conscious.

When the images of earth cling too tightly to memory, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy rises in man's heart: this is the rock's victory, this is the rock itself. This boundless grief is too heavy to bear. These are our nights of Gethsemane.

Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

Vergil had come across a copy of the essay during lunch period and picked it up off the employees’ lounge coffee table. The clarity of thought and rich precision of the words fascinated him, but more then that, the message itself stunned him.

“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem…,” he read, “… and that is suicide.”

 
 
   
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