Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.

I wrote my first book, I published it in 1955, it was in Yiddish and it was called And The World Was Silent.

I belong to a tradition that believes that the death of a single child is a blemish on creation.

I am not so naïve as to believe that this slim volume will change the course of history or shake the conscience of the world. Books no longer have the power they once did. Those who kept silent yesterday will remain silent tomorrow.

I have no doubt that faith is only pure when it does not negate the faith of another. I have no doubt that evil can be fought and that indifference is no option. I have no doubt that fanaticism is dangerous. And of all the books in the world on life, I have no doubt that the life of one person weighs more than them all.

We must choose between the violence of adults and the smiles of children. Between the ugliness of hate and the will to oppose it. Between inflicting suffering and humiliation on our fellow man and offering him the solidarity and hope he deserves.

For the good of all, I say: Be careful, the brutality of the world must not be more powerful or attractive than love and friendship.