My grandfather, in 1848, had fled from Germany to find political freedom in the United States.

In our house we repeated the pattern of thousands of other homes. There were a few books and a lot of music. Our food and our furniture were no different from our neighbors'.

In March of 1933 we witnessed a revolution in manner, in mores, in the definition of government. What before had been black or white sprang alive with color.

If 6,000,000 cattle had been slaughtered, there would have been more interest. A way would have been found.

I had taken on the color of the climate around me and had driven back all the emotion that rose from the Brooklyn streets so that I could belong to the exclusive club of Congress.

The studied, unquestioning pace of my family irritated me.

The rate of population growth in the United States is slightly below that required to reproduce itself.