I was browsing, and found this excerpt from the collection "Resistance, Rebellion and Death," by Albert Camus, called "Letters to a German Friend:

I told you, "I should like to be able to love my country and still love justice. I don't want any greatness for it, particularly a greatness born of blood and falsehood. I want to keep it alive by keeping justice alive." You retorted, "Well, you don't love your country."

When I think of your words today, I feel a choking sensation. No, I didn't love my country, if pointing out what is unjust in what we love amounts to not loving, if insisting that what we love should measure up to the finest image we have of her amounts to not loving.

Despite the suffering, despite the blood and wrath, despite the dead who can never be replaced, the unjust wounds, and the wild bullets, we must utter, not words of regret, but words of hope, of the dreadful hope of those isolated with their fate.

This huge Paris, all black and warm in the summer night, with a storm of bombers overhead and a storm of snipers in the streets, seems to us more brightly lighted than the city of Light the whole world used to envy us. It is bursting with all the fires of hope and suffering, it has the flame of lucid courage and all the glow, not only of liberation, but of tomorrow's liberty.

Heh. I love that. This huge Paris, all black and warm in the summer night. Isn't that incredible?

Still love that, though. Great quote. While I'm at it, I'll add a link that I emailed to myself, to the NSA archive at GW university: http://www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/.