Today I think that if for no other reason than that an Auschwitz existed, no one in our age should speak of Providence.

Conquering matter is to understand it, and understanding matter is necessary to understanding the universe and ourselves: and that therefore Mendeleev's Periodic Table, which just during those weeks we were learning to unravel, was poetry.

I am constantly amazed by man's inhumanity to man.

It is the duty of righteous men to make war on all undeserved privilege, but one must not forget that this is a war without end.

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.)

The living are more demanding; the dead can wait.

We collected in a group in front of their door, and we experienced within ourselves a grief that was new for us, the ancient grief of the people that has no land, the grief without hope of the exodus which is renewed in every century.