The work of bestial degradation, begun by the victorious Germans, had been carried to its conclusion by the Germans in defeat.

Perhaps Kafka laughed when he told stories [. . . ] because one isn't always equal to oneself.

A country is considered the more civilised the more the wisdom and efficiency of its laws hinder a weak man from becoming too weak and a powerful one too powerful.

The living are more demanding; the dead can wait.

It is this refrain that we hear repeated by everyone: you are not at home, this is not a sanatorium, the only exit is by way of the Chimney. (What did it mean? Soon we were all to learn what it meant.)

Perfection belongs to narrated events, not to those we live.

An enemy who sees the error of his ways ceases to be an enemy.