Everybody Is Somebody's Jew.

The Bond Between A Man And His Profession Is Similar To That Which Ties Him To His Country; It Is Just As Complex, Often Ambivalent, And In General It Is Understood Completely Only When It Is Broken: By Exile Or Emigration In The Case Of One's Country, By Retirement In The Case Of A Trade Or Profession.

Human Memory Is A Marvelous But Fallacious Instrument. The Memories Which Lie Within Us Are Not Carved In Stone; Not Only Do They Tend To Become Erased As The Years Go By, But Often They Change, Or Even Increase By Incorporating Extraneous Features.

He Could Hardly Read Or Write But His Heart Spoke The Language Of The Good

Each Of Us Bears The Imprint Of A Friend Met Along The Way; In Each The Trace Of Each.

Perhaps One Cannot, What Is More One Must Not, Understand What Happened, Because To Understand [the Holocaust] Is Almost To Justify...no Normal Human Being Will Ever Be Able To Identify With Hitler, Himmler, Goebbels, Eichmann, And Endless Others. This Dismays Us, And At The Same Time Gives Us A Sense Of Relief, Because Perhaps It Is Desirable That Their Words (and Also, Unfortunately, Their Deeds) Cannot Be Comprehensible To Us. They Are Non-human Words And Deeds, Really Counter-human.