كنت وحيدا ولكنني كنت أسير كفرقة تهبط إلى مدينة. - Jean-Paul Sartre

If I didn't try to assume responsibility for my own existence, it would seem utterly absurd to go on existing.

I had been born in order to fill
the great need I had of myself.

But a little while ago I made an experiment with the absolute or the absurd. This root — there was nothing in relation to which it was absurd. Oh, how can I put it in words? Absurd: in relation to the stones, the tufts of yellow grass, the dry mud, the tree, the sky, the green benches. Absurd, irreducible; nothing — not even a profound, secret upheaval of nature — could
explain it. Evidently I did not know everything, I had not seen the seeds sprout, or the tree grow. But
faced with this great wrinkled paw, neither ignorance nor knowledge was important: the world of explanations and reasons is not the world of existence.