Writer’s Quote Wednesday – Albert Camus

Good Morning Lovelies and welcome to another Writer’s Quote Wednesday. Today, I draw inspiration from Albert Camus, who before I saw this quote, I knew nothing about :).


I will be hosting a Book Signing party for The Stella Trilogy in two days, and the topic of my discussion will be Freedom. So you can imagine my excitement when I came across this quote. For me personally, it is not about rebelling against structure, for I live my life according to order and there are laws that govern me. However, this world is not a fair world. This world is not a free world. And as long as this world remains unfree, as a free woman, my very existence should always be in rebellion against it, lest I am a contradiction to my very self.

About The Author: From Biography.com:


Albert Camus was born on November 7, 1913, in Mondavi, French Algeria. Camus became known for his political journalism, novels and essays during the 1940s. His best-known works, including The Stranger (1942) and The Plague (1947), are exemplars of absurdism (EC places imaginary question mark here). Camus won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1957 and died on January 4, 1960, in Burgundy, France.



“What inspired you this week? Share your quotes!”

She Rebels


Soft kisses and warm hugs is what she gets from men.
Hot dates and perfume smells, but from truth she rebels.
An emotional roller coaster ride he takes her…
every so often they visit this amusement park.
And she wants to cringe when he grabs hold of her but instead of listening to herself
she listens to her heart.
Unwanted lips kissing her face and she takes it all in stride
afraid to admit her mistakes because of her pride.
Soft kisses turn into sloppy kisses
and warm hugs turn into feelings so hard and cold you’d think they were milk mugs.
Hot dates she no longer wants to take
but her financial status is at stake.
No more Christian Dior, Stephanie Taylor or Dolce Gabbana because she’s known on the streets as being his hottest baby mama
so she rebels.
Refusing to follow directions like a sterile sperm cell alone she cannot fertilize
this she soon realize
so she turns back to what she often refers to as hell.
She can’t understand what has happened to the warm hugs and innocent smells, yet she rebels.
He has painted her face with his fist,
multicolor on its sides
Sharpening his nails to cut her thighs’ and insides
but she laughs it off in stride
afraid to admit her mistakes because of her pride.
Excuses upon excuses she is determined to sell, so she rebels.
Convinced this is the last time she
runs to the nearest store praying her favorite make-up is on sale.
But she looks good though!
Driving his Lamborghini
shades on windows down, saying to herself “I know you see me!”
Blasting Jay-Z she agrees, “I can’t leave this alone the game needs me!”
So she endures the nightly screams of “Please don’t beat me!”
Attempting to open her eyes, Truth tries but she refuses to see.
Months and months have passed, and she’s lying in a place filled with screams and death mail.
Truth’s flowers she now wants to smell but her obituary has come too early,
so to the dirt,
she Rebels.