The Living Are More Demanding; The Dead

Our Ignorance Allowed Us To Live, As You Are In The Mountains, And Your Rope Is Frayed And About To Break, But You Don't Know It And Feel Safe.

Man Is A Centaur, A Tangle Of Flesh And Mind, Divine Inspiration And Dust.

The Future Of Humanity Is Uncertain, Even In The Most Prosperous Countries, And The Quality Of Life Deteriorates; And Yet I Believe That What Is Being Discovered About The Infinitely Large And Infinitely Small Is Sufficient To Absolve This End Of The Century And Millennium. What A Very Few Are Acquiring In Knowledge Of The Physical World Will Perhaps Cause This Period Not To Be Judged As A Pure Return Of Barbarism.

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.

Even In This Place One Can Survive, And Therefore One Must Want To Survive, To Tell The Story, To Bear Witness; And That To Survive We Must Force Ourselves To Save At Least The Skeleton, The Scaffolding, The Form Of Civilization. We Are Slaves, Deprived Of Every Right, Exposed To Every Insult, Condemned To Certain Death, But We Still Possess One Power, And We Must Defend It With All Our Strength For It Is The Last — The Power To Refuse Our Consent.