One of the mistakes the Germans made ... was that they were not brave enough to be afraid.

Today I know that all things are watching, that nothing goes unseen, that even wallpaper has a better memory than human beings.

Art is accusation, expression, passion. Art is black charcoal crushing white paper.

When the young woman leans over the sky, about to water the flowers as well as the weeds, her white front splits open until her milk runs.

And when the sun goes down and the mood comes upon me, I'll watch the play of the colors on the water, yield to the fleetly dissolving images, and turn into pure feeling, all soft and nice.

I was assigned to the Waffen-SS but was never involved in any crime. Besides, I always felt the need to write about my experiences in a larger context one day. This has only developed recently, now that I have overcome my inner aversion to writing an autobiography in the first place, specifically one having to do with my younger years.

If Jesus had been a hunchback, they could hardly have nailed him to the cross.