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E. Armand, “L’Individualisme de la Joie / The Individualism of Joy” (1924)

A painful misadventure had just befallen me, to which I owe the addition of some new wrinkles. It was not the first time in my life that I have, as the saying goes, “left some flesh among the brambles.” But this time, I felt that I risked leaving more than my fleece or my blood: I risked leaving my love for the joy of living. And that is serious. It is the worst that can happen to us, to you or to me, to no longer feel love for the joy of living. It matters little if we lose our reputation or our money, or the esteem of those around us, or, in the worst case, our liberty (and that is still a terrible thing.) But there is no loss that can compare to those of the love of the joy of living. […]

poetry

Eugène Bizeau, “Anarchist Individualist Initiation” (1924)

My dear Armand, your book is a book of ideas, which is why those who wish to reign by the sword or by the power of their fists do not value it. I, preserving the ideal of my younger years, I like its dawn-air, which breaks as if to illuminate the helpless vessels that the surf carries off … And, fleeing the ebb of human stupidity, endlessly multiplied, how many sailors lost on the granite rocks, how many tormented minds and hearts full of sorrow, will one day to “put in at the port,” if by you aid their “compass” once again finds the north! […]