Each man was his own executioner and his own victim.

Love makes everything complicated.

Granted that every war is madness-civil war, fratricide, is the worst of all; it reaches deeper into ugliness, cruelty and absurdity.

Only fanatics — in religion as well as in politics — can find a meaning in someone else’s death.

Yet another last night. The last night at home, the last night in the ghetto, the last night in the train, and, now, the last night in Buna. How much longer were our lives to be dragged out from one 'last night' to another?

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming.

Perhaps some day someone will explain how, on the level of man, Auschwitz was possible; but on the level of God, it will forever remain the most disturbing of mysteries.