The Living Are More Demanding; The Dead

Imagine Now A Man Who Is Deprived Of Everyone He Loves, And At The Same Time Of His House, His Habits, His Clothes, In Short, Of Everything He Possesses: He Will Be A Hollow Man, Reduced To Suffering And Needs, Forgetful Of Dignity And Restraint, For He Who Loses All Often Loses Himself.

Monsters Exist, But They Are Too Few In Numbers To Be Truly Dangerous. More Dangerous Are…the Functionaries Ready To Believe And Act Without Asking Questions.

The Trade Of Chemist (fortified, In My Case, By The Experience Of Auschwitz), Teaches You To Overcome, Indeed To Ignore, Certain Revulsions That Are Neither Necessary Or Congenital: Matter Is Matter, Neither Noble Nor Vile, Infinitely Transformable, And Its Proximate Origin Is Of No Importance Whatsoever. Nitrogen Is Nitrogen, It Passes Miraculously From The Air Into Plants, From These Into Animals, And From Animals Into Us; When Its Function In Our Body Is Exhausted, We Eliminate It, But It Still Remains Nitrogen, Aseptic, Innocent.

The Sea's Only Gifts Are Harsh Blows And, Occasionally, The Chance To Feel Strong.

Auschwitz Is Outside Of Us, But It Is All Around Us, In The Air. The Plague Has Died Away, But The Infection Still Lingers And It Would Be Foolish To Deny It. Rejection Of Human Solidarity, Obtuse And Cynical Indifference To The Suffering Of Others, Abdication Of The Intellect And Of Moral Sense To The Principle Of Authority, And Above All, At The Root Of Everything, A Sweeping Tide Of Cowardice, A Colossal Cowardice Which Masks Itself As Warring Virtue, Love Of Country And Faith In An Idea.