As if there could be true stories: things happen in one way, and we retell them in the opposite way.

We cannot withdraw our cards from the game. Were we as silent and mute as stones, our very passivity would be an act.

I do not believe in God; his existence has been disproved by Science. But in the concentration camp, I learned to believe in men.

You must be afraid, my son. That is how one becomes an honest citizen.

As for me, I am mean: that means that I need the suffering of others to exist. A flame. A flame in their hearts. When I am all alone, I am extinguished.

Some men are born committed to action: they do not have a choice, they have been thrown on a path, at the end of that path, an act awaits them, their act.

I exist, that is all, and I find it nauseating.