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Albert Camus (1913-1960)

Albert Camus, son of a working-class family, was born in Algeria in 1913.
He spent the early years of his life in North Africa, where he worked a various jobs (in the weather bureau, in an automobile-accessory firm, in a shipping company) to help pay for his courses at the University of Algiers.
He then turned to journalism as a career. His report on the unhappy state of the Muslims of the Kabylie region aroused the Algerian government to action and brought him public notice.
From 1935 to 1938 he ran the Theatre de l'Equipe, a theatrical company that produced plays by Malraux, Gide, Synge, Dostoevski, and others.
During World War II he was one of the leading writers of the French Resistance and editor of Combat, then an important underground newspaper.
Camus was always very active in the theater, and several of his plays have been published and produced.
His fiction, including The Stranger, The Plague, The Fall, and Exile and the Kingdom; his philosophical essays, The Myth of Sisyphus and the Rebel; and his plays have assured his preeminent position in modern French letters.
In 1957 Camus was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. His sudden death on January 4, 1960, cut short the career of one of the most important literary figures of the Western world when he was at the very summit of his powers.


come rimedio ea vita de società suggerisso ea grande cità, al dì de oncò xé l\'unico deserto aea nostra portata
ea libertà de stampa xé quea che pi de tuti ga soferto el lento degrado de l\'idea de libertà
ea poitica e el destin del\'umanità li fa omeni sensa ideai nè grandessa. Quei che ga ea grandessa no i va a smissiarse in poitica
el contràrio de un pòpoeo civiizà xe un pòpoeo creatìvo
el fàssino: i te dixe de sì anca co\' no te ghe domandà gninte de ciaro
el futuro xé el soeo tipo de propietà che i paroni ghé concede de bon grado ai sciavi
el sucesso xé fàssie da \'vere. El diffìssie xé meritàrseo
i me dixea che ghe voe un fia de morti pa rivare a un mondo dove no se copasse pì
l\'omo xé l\'una creatura che nol voe essere queo che xé
l\'unico vero progresso xé imparare da soi a avere torto
no te saré mai contento se te serchi sempre in cossa xé ea feicità, no te vivaré mai se te serchi sempre el signifcato dea vita
no xé ea lota che ne constrinxe a essare artisti, xé l\'arte che ne constrinxe a lotare
qua vive un omo lìbaro; nissuni ghe serve
queo che conta no xe queo che se dixe, ma queo che no ocore dire
tute ee rivoeussioi moderne se gà concluso co un rafforsamento deo stato
un inteetuae xè uno che \'l ga \'na mente che ghe piase vardarse