What is boredom? It is when there is simultaneously too much and not enough.

How can I, who was not able to retain my own past, hope to save that of another?

I wanted the moments of my life to follow and order themselves like those of a life remembered. You might as well try and catch time by the tail.

Because the Nazi venom worked its way even into our thoughts, every accurate thought was a conquest; because an all-powerful police sought to force us into silence every word became as precious as a declaration of principle; because we were persecuted, each of our gestures carried the weight of a commitment.

Death is a continuation of my life without me.

I know only one Church: it is the society of men.

What the painter adds to the canvas are the days of his life. The adventure of living, hurtling toward death.